So it seems I have a kink. Part Four

My next relationship lasted almost a decade. It was… safe. Everything about it. I resigned myself to the idea that I was one of those people who just couldn’t have orgasms. After a few years, I started reading erotica online, and once again I was drawn to the BDSM stories, but they were mostly about slaves and pain and humiliation, things that I found intimidating (and still do, to some extent). I found some more sites with more floggers and fewer cages, and that old flutter returned. A whim at an Ann Summers party had furnished me with a vibrator that gave me my first ever orgasm. Things were looking up.

The trouble is, he just wasn’t very good in bed. The hurried eruptions that had been quite flattering initially had revealed themselves to be all there was on offer. Suggestions of focussing on foreplay came to nothing. He’d made it abundantly clear he didn’t like going down on me, and wouldn’t use the vibe on me because ‘the buzzing made his hand feel funny’. When your sex life consists of fumblefumblepokepokewhoops and then he falls asleep while you get business done alone, is there any point bringing up any of your kinky fantasies? I tried; the handcuffs came out again, but he wasn’t really interested. We got a bit of spanking in there, but he kept stopping to apologise every time he left a mark. Sweet, but not really what I was hoping for.
I spent my twenties with a secret erotica habit and a husband who kept wondering where all the batteries are going. It all came to a head when I realised I’d had enough of being disregarded, and I embarked on life as a single mum

So I’m in my thirties single, with a head full of ideas and no clue what I’m doing. Erotica isn’t getting it done for me, and my faithful vibrator is on it’s last legs. Time to be brave and venture out into the world of BDSM, I guess…

So it seems I have a kink. Part Three

My next relationship started when I was 18. Initially long-distance, we quickly got engaged and moved in together. It was a relationship of highs and lows, and looking back on it now, I can see the warning signs I missed. He had a lot more experience than me, and I naïvely assumed that meant he knew what he was doing. We introduced a bit more kink into our sex life; handcuffs and a riding crop I still had from my pre-teen horsey phase. I now understand the value of doing proper research, because that hurt like a motherfucker, something he found highly amusing. He was a bully, even towards the dogs. He would pinch and twist my nipples too hard, something he knew I hated. He did it so much they went numb, and then complained when I didn’t want him touching them. Every time we had sex, he’d nag me for anal. We’d tried it once and I hadn’t liked it, but he kept going on about it, to the point I dreaded sex with him. When I broke up with him, he threw me across the kitchen and wouldn’t let me leave the house. I shouted for help until the neighbours called the police.

So, I’m twenty years old, I’ve just been rescued from my fiancé by the police, I have nowhere to live and I can’t feel my nipples. I asked for the things I thought I wanted, but it just hurt, and not the good way. And still no orgasms. Clearly, I thought, this BDSM thing isn’t right for me after all.

So it seems I have a kink. Part Two

My first boyfriend was dull as wallpaper paste. No idea what my 15-year-old self saw in him, except that at 21 he seemed a little more sophisticated than my peers. Losing our virginities was anti-climactic, as was every encounter we had afterwards. He seemed remarkably uninterested in sex, I’m not sure if that was with me or just in general.
We broke up when he returned from a holiday to Southeast Asia, announcing he’d met someone out there. As had each and every one of his friends who had gone out there with him. My friends all declared that he’d been taken in by one of the infamous bar girls, and ‘was he aware that his new girlfriend had a penis’. Sweet of them to try to make me feel better, but I think he just liked the culture of demure, submissive girls he found there. I had told him when I thought he was wrong, and he felt I embarrassed him.

So I’m sixteen, entirely underwhelmed with sex, and just lost my first boyfriend because I wasn’t enough of a doormat. Clearly, I thought, I’m not actually particularly submissive.

So it seems I have a kink. Part One

This isn’t really a surprise to me. I’ve been fascinated by BDSM since I first stole my mother’s New Woman magazines and read the clumsy exposés of life inside the Dominatrix dungeons.
Even at the age of ten or so, I was intrigued by the dynamic, the balance of power. The story they told was cliched; men with powerful jobs paying women to indulge foot fetishes and humiliate them, to assume the responsibility for them for an hour before they went back to offices and boardrooms. I couldn’t really understand either side of it, but I wanted to know more.
A few years later, I would read more magazines. This time they belonged to my brothers. Typical ‘lad’s mags’ I suppose, but I stumbled across an article about pet play. That part of my brain that wanted to understand sat up and took notice. From what I can remember, the female reporter had spent the day being a pony. Not something that appealed to me as a concept at the time, but the way she described the attention she received from her handler stayed with me. Gentle hands running over her, petting her, telling her what a good girl she had been. That made me go all fluttery. I wanted some of that. I started to read a little more, and I knew right away that I was never going to be comfortable in a dominant position, not for any length of time, anyway. But being tied up, being controlled, being spanked… Surrendering to someone who took charge. That was definitely more my thing.
So, I’m barely into my adolescence, never even been kissed and I’m having flutters over being spanked. Clearly, there was something there to be explored at a later date.

Cubs Pants

Crackers for under crackers

Knickers to you. Pants to others, and undercrackers to some oddities. There are many names for one’s undergarments and many styles. I am partial to the jockey shorts; snug fitting and no wedgies. Maximum comfort over style. Others like the full on wedgie and the G-string. They just don’t suit me.

Anyway, this post feels like it has two halves with no apparent link, but I assure you there is a link and not just pants. Hopefully it will be apparent by the end of the post because there are many things about the female underwear which I love. Let’s start with the accidental sneak peek.

Part One

You know the score, you are out and about in the supermarket, looking for the essential spice for your favorite meal. You look over and there is a woman crouched down. Looking at something on the bottom shelf. Her shirt slightly lifted, and her jeans slightly lowered, and her pants exposed for all to see.

Now you don’t want to look. No, that’s wrong. You do want to look but you know you shouldn’t. Seeing her there and her choice of pants, this little disclosure reveals a lot about the person in front of you. You can build a character just on what pants they are wearing. Yet you know it’s wrong and borderline voyeurism to look and it wasn’t what you expect in Tesco today, so you continue your shop.

However, you reach the artisan coffees and she is there. You now have a face to the pants. A person to your naughty view. Does she match the pants. This is a little awkward… well just for you, as she has no idea the sights you have seen.

Part Two

There is one thing with pants which I have yet to do. Well two, but I am rolling them up together… oh wait, it is literally rolling them up. I have always want to roll them up and use them as a gag.

There is a scenario in my head, where I yank down her underwear and force them into her mouth to keep her moans muffled while I have my wicked way. The idea that her used musky pants are now all she can taste and smell. There is something so delicious and filthy about the idea and the pants. It gives the dom in me a warm glow.

The other scenario is very similar, again we have rolled up pants but this time they are not heading to the mouth… well not just yet. This time they are heading for her wet pussy to be covered in her juices before she has no choice but to taste her own wetness on the thin material.


I will be honest, pants turn me on. I think the reason I like the above ideas and thoughts is that knickers are so personal and despite the supermarket adventure, rarely seen. They live so close to the most sexual of organs, that they are always going to be tied to sex in my head. I mean, my first wanks were to clothes catalogues and the underwear sections. Clearly I think that’s played a part in what I like as an adult.

It could also explain why I would find it more of a turn-on to see a women in her pants than in the nude. With nudity the full form is there. There is no imagination on what might be hiding behind the cotton white knickers and that takes some of the fun away for me. Then you have the G-String/thong which covers the front and accentuate the ass. (I will not say Ass-entuate)

While I am not into lingerie as such, I am certainly into pants and I don’t just mean getting into them and I won’t even start with my love of #Lingeanuary when pants turn up.

Who else is talking knickers? Why not take a look via the link below


Fail 404

Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.

Winston Churchill

This is a tough post for me. On Sunday I failed at being the person cub needed, and I failed at being the person I thought I was. It’s still raw and hard to process but I hope by writing about it, that it helps all involved and possibly others. Let’s start at the beginning.

Sunday was date number three with our potential third, who we shall call honey. (You can read about the first date if you want to get up to speed). As part of the date we had also arranged to attend a new play event for cub and I. Honey had been before and we believed she would be bringing her main partner. Turns out that misunderstanding was not to be the last.

It transpires that it was going to be just us and her, so this automatically seemed to heap more pressure on this date. Not only were we on date three but we were going to this new event where it kinda felt like we had to look after her. While a third wheel is not the right term, there was concern about how she would be with us playing. Would she just sit and watch?

This prompted Cub and I to speak at length about limits and rules before the event. Cub requesting things should be taken slowly and carefully and had concerns for what honey would do if we played. I think here is a good time to mention that we haven’t played in public before.

The event we usually go to, I see as social event above a play event. That’s without mentioning how the venue is set out, making the pay equipment almost feet like a stage. While I know cub would enjoy our time playing, the feeling of being watched is not something I would enjoy.

At Twisted it seems like there were places to play in every nook and cranny. You would turn a corner and find a soft bench or large bed. As the place is usually used for swingers events, nowhere was private but then nowhere felt like a stage. There was no feeling that you were being spied on and importantly, no one stood or sat and watched.  

The other reason I haven’t played with cub in public the fear I would miss things. When we play at home my concentration is 100% on her. There are no distractions, no having to move out the way of others. No noise of other people. Just us and it works.

At the event there is a St Andrews cross which cub has always wanted to try. We arrived early and it was still quiet so seemed like the perfect time to play and push myself and cub a little.

I fastened cub to the top of the cross and checked she was ok before I proceed to start our usual play routine. After a few minutes of a warm bottom from the flogging, I invited honey to come over and feel how warm it was. This was meant to be a small gesture to keep her involved and help cub get over her fears. What happened next was not part of the script. (sorry that sounds very clickbait)

While she was feeling cubs bottom, she proceeded to rub and stroke cub in other places. All over her thighs and sides, then moving on to kissing her body. I checked in with cub to see if this was ok and continued to flog her, while trying not to hit honey. Over the next ten minutes things went beyond what was agreed between cub and I. There was kissing on all sides, there was licking and there was finger fucking. Things which should not have happened, or at the very least not as quickly as they did.

This is where I failed. I got caught up in the moment and in the entire scene, and failed to stop or at least slow everything down. I failed to follow what we had agreed. I failed to understand what cub needed, including failing to spot moments when she needed me the most. The small gestures I would have picked up if my concentration was not all over the place, were sadly missed.

Even when checking in on cub, I should have known things were not going well from how she said it.  I was lost, and ultimately cub called a halt to everything and it was clear she was upset. I feel I failed on so many levels that it hung over the rest of the day.

I am not happy with how things happened and I am especially not happy with how I handled the situation. There were many times I should have called a halt to the events taking place. It will stay with me for a long time to come and serve as a reminder of how not great things can be.

Since then I have felt terrible about what took place. I’m trying not to beat myself up about what happened as we all make mistakes, but there is something else. There is massive amounts of guilt.

I feel guilty for making cub feel bad. I think that’s clear, but what I didn’t expect is the guilt for enjoying parts of what happened. In isolation, there were parts I thought were hot. Parts I literally had to stand back from as my tiny mind was blown. These moments I think made cub feel worse. So double up on the guilt.

On the positive side, cub did go beyond what she thought she could, and broke some new ground with her exploration. We have since talked about what took place and have both learned from the experience. This is the first time in our relationship that we have had any major kind of issue like this and I hope it serves as a reminder for us that while being human we might not get things right all the time. Each time you do mess up, you need to learn from it and I think cub and I have learned a lot from what happened.

I know we’ll be ok but I wonder if I’ve broken cub. Have I tainted this experience for her because she said stop or that things move so darn fast. I don’t know, but we’ll talk about this a lot over the coming weeks and months. We will overcome this and we will be more aware if anything like this happens again.

Cub’s thoughts on the event can be found here.

An Imperfect Storm

**Disclaimer; in this post I will talk about feelings I have which are irrational, and which go against things I know to be true. One purpose of this post is to reconcile these two sides. As Bear will tell you, I apologise far too much for things that aren’t my fault. This post is no different.**

We attended Twisted on Sunday. You can read Bear’s post about looking forward to the event here, and a bit of background about exploring the possibility of poly, my insecurities and our first date with Honey.

Going into Sunday, I had two main concerns; firstly, being left out. I have written before about my awareness of my insecurities, and that I didn’t like the idea of Bear having a whole relationship that I wasn’t part of. If we were going to do this, then I needed it to feel like she was joining us, rather than me joining them, at least in the early stages of this new dynamic.

Secondly, I didn’t want to be put in the position of being the one to have to stop everything. I can be painfully accommodating at times, particularly if I’m feeling a little vulnerable. I have been known to sign up to a direct debit just because I struggle to say “no” to the charity collector, so I’m really not the person who should be controlling the speed of a scene.

I had explained to Bear that the fact I was the least experienced and most tentative of the three of us, coupled with my desire to please, to not spoil everyone else’s good time, meant that I knew I would feel a (completely self-imposed) pressure to let things go further than I might be comfortable with in order to ensure everyone else had a good time.

Bear said that he would keep me safe, that he had no expectations, and promised that he would make sure everything went slowly. We talked about the two of us playing while Honey was there, about the possibility of her joining in a little, about Bear maybe topping her… Sunday would just be tentative first steps, something to build on in later dates together.

Bear mentioned that he was wondering about pushing me a little more than usual, trying to help me get through my own reservations. He has an astonishing level of faith in me, sometimes too much. I think the idea was that by him taking more control, I would find I was able to go further than I was giving myself credit for. This wasn’t an idea I was convinced by, as I felt it would only increase the pressure on me to be the one to stop things if they went too far.

Neither of us really thought anything much would happen, beyond maybe my first kiss with a woman, and Bear would be there to take charge of anything else.

Twisted itself is a great event in a discreet venue. It is full of equipment, apparatus, huge beds and little nooks. We had the tour, and everyone was very friendly and on hand to answer any questions. It is a different atmosphere to the events we regularly attend; they are social events with some added playing. Twisted felt more like a sex event with some socialising.

After a look around and some relaxed talking over a drink, Bear suggested we go and use the St Andrew’s Cross. I was excited, as I had always wanted to try one, but a little unsure what was about to happen. I stripped down to my knickers and was strapped in. Having another person there wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be, and my bottom was soon getting flogged.

The Cross faces a wall so I could see nothing, so I shut my eyes and focused on what was happening. I could hear other groups being shown the area, and that was easier than expected. I felt Honey’s hand on my bum, heard her and Bear talking about how warm it was getting, and I was surprised by how sexy I found that, and by how aroused I was getting.

Someone (I later discovered it was Bear) removed my knickers and I felt his fingers. Honey was caressing my thigh and kissing my side while Bear spanked me, which was a really amazing sensation. I was still nervous but was proud of myself so far, and trying to stay in the moment and not get lost in my own head. Bear’s fingers disappeared, and I’m pretty sure he gave them to Honey to lick clean. I was a bit surprised by this, as it didn’t seem to fit in with what we had discussed, but maybe he had decided to push me after all. Her fingers replaced his, again something beyond what we had talked about. I didn’t know if it was her idea or his. Maybe he had asked her to, to show me that I could do it. He sounded so proud of me when he checked in with me, and I didn’t want to let him down.

I heard them kissing and it hurt. We hadn’t talked about that. I don’t know what I would have said if we had, but it was too late now. It was happening, and I wasn’t included in it and wasn’t involved in the decision and I was left out while it was literally going on behind my back. I felt very alone.

At home when I am in restraints, I can move my hand in a certain way and Bear will know that he needs to hold my hand for a moment. I tried this on Sunday because I needed to feel closer to him, but nothing happened. I don’t know if it’s because he’s attention was divided, because he was overwhelmed by what was happening, or if it was simply because we’ve never used a St Andrew’s Cross before and he has never had to look up to read my reactions.

Honey moved to kiss me on the mouth, which helped get me back into the moment. This was one of the times when my memory was taking too much in; I don’t know where Bear was at this point. I suppose he was there watching (he wouldn’t miss that for the world) but I couldn’t feel him, which is unusual.

She asked if she could lick me, and I said yes because I couldn’t think of anything better to say, and because Bear felt far away, and because I wanted to make him proud, and because I wanted to push myself, and for all kinds of wrong reasons. Then she was between my legs, licking my pussy and I tried to ignore the increasing feeling that this was going much too fast. The physical sensation was delightful, gentle and warm and different from Bear. I was thinking that I had no idea how to reciprocate if the time came, but then suddenly it just became too much. Not the sensation, but the situation. I felt lightheaded and adrift and I just wanted it all to stop but I didn’t know how. I was so unprepared for this. We both were. I didn’t know what was going on with Bear, but it had become apparent that he wasn’t slowing things down for me. Maybe he was too caught up what was playing out in front of him. Things felt out of control.

I thought about calling out for him but I didn’t know what to say. “Sir”? “Bear”? “Red”? Looking back, I should have said any of them. I should have said anything. Even a cry of “penguin” would have brought him to me.

I overheard them behind me, and I knew things between them were about to go even further, in a way I could not cope with. Even Honey expressed surprise that things had gone so fast. That was confirmation that things were out of control, nobody was putting the brakes on. I don’t remember exactly how, but the next thing I was aware of was Bear standing next to the cross asking quietly if I was OK. I told him I wasn’t, that I wanted to stop but didn’t know how. I heard him tell Honey and everything stopped. I felt like such a disappointment.

I know I did the right thing, and that things shouldn’t have carried on once it was clear nobody was in control, but while Bear and Honey were both surprised by how fast things have gone, they both seemed pretty relaxed, even enthusiastic, about it. It was me putting a damper on things.

It felt like a long time before he took me down. When I have safeworded or expressed discomfort in the past, Bear has me out of the restraints and into his arms in a flash. It probably felt longer than it was, but the feeling of being removed, separate from whatever was going on behind me, made it a long and lonely wait. Not long enough to feel forgotten, but enough to feel overlooked. A lower priority than putting the toys away.

After a long hug I felt better. We hadn’t brought my blanket, so Bear fetched me a towel and Honey got me a drink. When Honey stepped away for a moment, Bear asked earnestly if I was ok. I told him that I didn’t really know, but I needed to put a brave face on it and get through the rest of the afternoon. When Honey returned it was very awkward and I just wanted to apologise for ruining everything. I know I didn’t do anything wrong, except for maybe not speaking up sooner, but it was exactly the situation I had been worried about.

After that we decided to move to the hot tub. There is a hot tub at the event we normally go to, but we’ve never had the courage to go in. We’re too busy talking anyway. The anonymity of a new event gave Bear a bit of a boost of courage, and the three of us stripped off and went in. It was a very welcome feeling, and Bear and I had lots of much needed cuddles, although I still didn’t quite know what to say to Honey.

Afterwards we got dressed and got some drinks and found a little sofa tucked away in a corner. Bear looked very pleased with himself, sat in the middle with a girl snuggled against him on each side. After a while, Honey mentioned about maybe finding someone who she could ask to play, and I felt guilty. We had brought her with us, and although there hadn’t been a stated expectation of play, it seemed unfair to her that she would have to go and find somebody else to play with.

I thought about what I could live with, and what I knew I couldn’t deal with that day, and told Bear that if he wanted some impact play with her that was OK with me, but nothing sexual. I don’t think I could have watched, one major reason being that I didn’t want there to be any possibility of me being invited to join in. I made my excuses and went to bar, with my inadequacies for company. While I was waiting, I was asked if I was there alone, but I had no idea how to answer. In the end, I went with “no, my boyfriend is spanking someone else.” I’m still getting used to living in a world where something like that doesn’t raise an eyebrow. It’s hard, putting on a brave face.

Bear came to fetch me when they were done, and I went and joined them on the sofa again. Bear knew I was struggling with watching him be intimate with somebody else, so he left the middle seat for me. I sat between them and gave Honey a cuddle. The cuddle was nice, and I know it made Bear happy to see it, although for me it was tinged with sadness. I was his sub, his person. I wore his collar, and here I was giving aftercare to the person he just spanked. It highlighted my shortcomings, as did the fact that, despite months and months of encouragement to play at the other events, the first time Bear was able to play successfully in public it was with someone else.

After that, it was time to leave. We drove Honey home, said our goodbyes to her and headed home to compare notes and dissect the events of the afternoon.

So, how do I feel about the whole thing?

I am disappointed because I anticipated the problems I would have, and did everything I could to mitigate and avoid those things, but both things I feared most still happened. I was still the one who had to stop, knowing that it would spark all the feelings of inadequacy that would come with it. I was still left on my own while they played.

I am frustrated because it started out so well, and it could all have been resolved with better communication. Or any communication at all, frankly. All three of us messed up by assuming we should just keep going until someone else said ‘stop’.

I am sad because it was a momentous achievement for me. I pushed myself, and made some huge steps, but it’s all overshadowed by the things I couldn’t do. It is a shame that my first experiences with another woman ended up being less than positive because of that, especially because the actual experiences, taken in isolation, were very enjoyable.

I am torn because I don’t know if Bear and I should continue with the process of adding a third person, be it Honey or someone else. Sunday gave me new confidence in some areas, but highlighted some things we still need to do a lot more work on.

I am ashamed because I feel like my wobble early in the afternoon, and the resulting mess in my brain, cast a pall over the others’ enjoyment of the event.

I am worried because I feel like Bear is taking all this very hard. He feels like he failed, that he let me down, and he is beating himself up about it. I don’t want him to haul himself over the coals for his mistakes; I want him to learn from them so we can move forward.

I am hopeful because Bear and I have talked over what happened, what went wrong, and how we feel about it. There has been sadness and guilt, but no anger, no accusations, no bitterness. We can handle this.

Bear’s thoughts on the event can be found here

The Elephant in the Conference Centre

Somebody in the community has blocked me on Twitter. I have been aware of this for a few months now, and it has slightly puzzled me. I have blocked and been blocked several times; out of frustration, after discussions turned uncivilised, or for mental health reasons.

I am not aware of having any interactions with this person, certainly not any negative ones. She is free to block whoever she wants, of course. She does not owe me or anyone else an explanation for that decision.

However, when I occasionally see our mutual friends interacting with her, with tweets I cannot see, I do wonder what I did. I do not like the feeling that I have done something to upset somebody, particularly if that was never my intention. It may be she just doesn’t like what I tweet, but to actually block me, rather than just… not following, or muting me? I don’t think that I would keep cropping up on her timeline just from my interaction with mutual friends, so it seems odd she would take that extra step.

As we are now in 2019, my thoughts are turning to Eroticon. I am ridiculously excited to be attending this year, and looking forward to meeting many of the wonderful people I have met through the kinky Twitter community, as well as spending time with several friends I have already met. Through the comments of others, I know that this person will also be attending. I know that Eroticon is not exactly a small event, and there will be many people that I will not have the opportunity to meet. However, the chances of an introduction increase greatly when there are mutual friends.

As I have said, I absolutely respect the right of any Twitter user to block any other Twitter user, and they do not need to justify that choice. But they are not usually expected to meet socially afterwards. What exactly is the etiquette? Is it the Done Thing to be polite but distant, respecting that person’s choice to not have anything to do with you? Or would that just appear to be rudeness on my part?

Is it permitted to enquire, in case it was all a misunderstanding and could be smoothed out with a little explanation, or an apology? As I say, I hate upsetting people, and if I have done so unknowingly, I would like to know how so I can avoid it in future.

Or is it better to to carry on as if blissfully unaware, being friendly and attempting conversation, knowing that the person in front of you has taken active steps to not hear from you? Unlikely to blossom into a friendship with that sort of beginning.

Or maybe I should just think “fuck it”. I’m not going to apologize for being there, and if we are introduced and they don’t want to interact with me, then they have the choice to once again remove themselves from my company.