BDSM, Fantasies, Male Lead Relationship stuff, Sex stories, What Women Really Want


Helpless. That’s what I want to be. Helpless.

Make sure I know what to do. Plan ahead, make arrangements, prepare everything and show me that you cared, that you thought about it. I want to see the rope on the bed. I need to find the brush and rags, the water bowl with the soap on a little plate on the side on the bathroom tile floor.

Guide me.

Let me know how you feel. Let me feel what you feel. Give me your words.

I am here to serve you. Don’t let me let you down. I need guidance. I need instructions and strict guidelines. What time, where, what, how, with what and why?

I need to know this is what you want. This is important to you. This is exactly what you want.

I need to not worry. I need to know.

You give me good instructions on how to lick your cock. Where, how, when to stop and move on to other things. Treat this as as important. It is to me. Don’t let me let you down. Let me know how to serve you. It is of paramount interest to me.

Do not make this into sex. Do not make this into a light thing, a thing to joke about. I do not joke about your sexual preferences, the way you like me to lick your ass or toy with it. Why are you not seeing my needs as needs? Why is it still this hard?

Why do you not tie me up every day?

Where is the rope now?

BDSM, Fantasies, Sex stories

A Powder Pink Wig

What would be a problem for most, wasn’t one for me. It burned, when he fucked me. It hurt. My body was not accepting of this new presence; it had been building itself up for something else entirely. Now it has been taken away and like a tide slowly gathering off the sand and back to the sea my body is finding another shape. A new but more familiar now, lean and beautiful.

With his thrusts I felt the burn and although it hurt and almost lured my mind elsewhere as is always a possibility with pain, I felt the pain and the newly found sensations build inside. I had missed it, even when my body had repelled the thought. My body had missed it. It was so eager to answer, too eager. We both came so quickly that we didn’t even have time to do anything. He choked me, I’m fairly sure, and he talked to me some. But we were in such a hurry, we had both been longing for it for a long time.

It took almost a week to get back there again. He was scared and I had to initiate and sooth him, like many times before. It’ll be alright, we can just try it out, it’s not so serious, let me show you.

I have bought a long cosplay wig. It’s powder pink and reaches the lower half of my ass. I’m also so many sizes smaller that I could fit in my old black corset again. It put them on, added heels and sat on him.

You like the way I look?

Yeah. Pretty, Wonderboy whispered touching my hair.

Do you like the the hair, the longer the better?

I don’t know. It is pretty though.

I grinded myself against his growing cock. I kissed his mouth and he devoured mine.

Take the panties off, he said, but I couldn’t part with his lips. We kept on kissing, he held me by my waist, tight, letting me know how small my waist is, how fragile I am against his strength. He played with my ass gloriously, slowly.

And then I had to stand to get my panties off, showing him my new hair, my corset, my figure.

I admired him on the bed as well. When he looked at me, I looked back. How pretty he is with his black hair and his new found definition of muscle. I could look at him all day, and I do. But now I wanted to look at his cock. It was up, tight against his furry stomach. I wanted it inside me now. I sat on him and soon enough he was inside, pounding me, surprising me with the lust and the sensations. There was no pain, just pressure, hard hands on my ass and a hard cock in me pussy. He held me close kissing me and teasing me with his cock. I could feel the tension build up, I quivered and my pussy was trembling with me. We hold onto each other for the longest time like that. He hitting my ass, me on top of him, my pussy locked on his cock.

Suddenly he came. He trembled and rose from the bed to meet me, to hold me against him.

I was surprised by it. Usually he gives a sign when he’s about to come, but it must have surprised him as well.

I rose off him and he rolled over, we were both looking for blood from the fresh sheets, because last time had been a massacre. There was none. I took a towel and we spread it out in perfect understanding what would follow next.

For some reason the left side of my clitoris hurt when he touched it. The hood and the left side felt like they were going to chafe, although nothing had touched them straight on before that. What a lucky thing that I am able to orgasm from other kind of stimuli too. Once upon a time I couldn’t have said anything, but I didn’t have troubles like that now. I guided Wonderboy very gently and firmly.

I want you to lick very carefully and gently right from the bottom up. Lick on this side, I guided him with my hands, and as it sometimes feels better, I also kept my own hands there keeping my pussy lips wide open. It enhances the sensation if I’m really turned on, because the outer lips get so swollen they start to interfere with what I really want to be feeling.

He licked away and put his hands on my waist as I guided him to, still held captive by the corset as well. It felt so good that it didn’t take a lot of fantasizing to get me off like usually. There might have been thoughts of a glory hole, boy I love those, and some big dick hunks fucking each other through it, but I wouldn’t remember that, now would I? I came in his mouth and on the towel and we got to have that moment of glowing together slick with sweat and very happy.

BDSM, Craving for more, Fantasies, Male Lead Relationship stuff, Sex stories, Submissive tendencies, Volatile bodies, Wonderboy

An Order Is an Order

He’s ordered me twice to think about him, when I play with myself. That has been the condition of me being allowed to play. Just the fact that he does this makes me feel loved. It also gets me very much turned on.  He’s ordering me and he wants to be on my mind. He wants me to remember who is the source of my pleasure.

After these solo orgasms, and during playing, I’ve felt much more emotionally present. I’ve felt loved and somehow I’ve felt his presence in my mind.

It’s been so easy to fantasize just about him, when he’s commanded it. Like today. I just thought about the things he said to me yesterday when he was making love to me. I was thinking what he did too, but what seemed to get me off was the words.

He was on top of me and I really wanted him to wrist-lock me so I said,

Hold me down from my wrists.

What? he asked incredulously and then hit my cheek so hard it stung and felt hot for many minutes to come. You are making demands on me? Seems that I’ve been far too allowing with you. I’ll have to start training you. You’ll be a perfect slave for me.

I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I’m so sorry.

You better not. Now, you’ll do everything I say. You’re just hear for my enjoyment, you hear? And you will adress me sir.

He was tentatively biting my nipples, sucking them and biting them again. It was not enough. He slapped them a bit and then bit at them again.

You can bite them harder, if you like, I offered fearing his respond. I was right to fear it. He moved away from the tits and latched on to my earlobe. He bit my ear ripping it to shreads, and I  shrieked, but he just kept going, harder, twisting his teeth’s grip.

Ouch, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts! I yelled. I almost couldn’t handle the piercing, sudden pain.

He stopped after letting me cry out for a while. He sat up, still inside me, and said,

It hurts?

As innocent as his question was my answer, Yeah, the biting. I wanted him to be sure it wasn’t his cock hurting me. But he hadn’t meant it as a question at all.

You enjoy everything I do. He said it in a commanding voice leaving me no choice.

Okay. Sir. Yes. I enjoy everything you do.

And he latched on to my earlobe again. Suddenly I took the pain in and it changed. It went inside me and became warmth. I relaxed. I was hooked on it.

You are for my enjoyment and to give me children.

I am just using you. You fucking whore.

He had fucked me hard, slow and in every way possible and neither of us had come. He’d been so intense with the new training, hitting me so much harder than before, hurting me, biting me so much harder, I’d been too tangled in that. But now he had decided.

You have to come, he said.

I couldn’t believe my ears. It’s always stroke me as implausible and irritable when submissive women have described how they come on demand. I’ve always been intimadated by him having so much power and also by the fact that I though I never could.

Right now? I asked, because I wasn’t sure, if he knew about forcing your slave to come for you. If he meant somethin else.

He didn’t.

Yes, he answered and pushed his cock deep inside of me.


I came.

It was a violent, dryish orgasm which pushed his cock almost out of me. I could feel my hands hitting his chest, which seems to happen every time I come this violently, like I’m protesting it. And the words from my mouth are usually No, no, no!  I don’t know, if I said anything. After the orgasm fell like a sudden tidal wave crashing on the shore, I was all tapped.

I was shocked. I was shocked he’d have this strong of a hold of me. I felt fragile, on his mercy and used, but in the best way possible. I felt I was his. The feeling was more powerful than any words could have awakened.

I started to cry.

I came a second time after that, but I can’t remember what kind of a violent act pushed me over the edge the second time. Maybe it was just his words again. He kept telling me, how he’d make me serve him. How I’d make a good fucktoy for him some day, when he’d trained me properly.

I own you, I can do with you anything I like. And you like it. You will do anything I ask of you.

I will do anything you ask, sir.

After the sex we cuddled and talked about why he hadn’t come. He had fucked me too viciously the night before (oooh boy, it was extatic) and his cock was so sensitive that it had started to hurt too much. I tried to console him and promised him, I’d do my best to make it up to him.

Did you really come, when I commmanded you? he asked.

Yeah. And then I started to cry, I said.

It was really hot, he said and kissed me passionately. He loves it when I cry. And I guess he loves it, when he gets me to come just by ordering me to!

I offered to go down on him, but he declined. It’s a shame I can’t do the same to you, I thought.



BDSM, Fantasies, Sex stories, Wonderboy

The Need To Be A Good Girl

Wonderboy fucked me yesterday from behind, fast and furious. He hit me on my buttocks more fiercely than he ever has before. He was using his palm instead of his fingers, and it’s like a bone flogger. It fucking hurts.

My ass turned red and his cock twitched in the confines of my contracting pussy. There was something scary there for me. He was so upright behind me, so big, it was so fast, the hits contracted my cunt and made me feel real, pinching unwelcome pain in my cunt where the cock stood rigid in the outer folds. I yelled ouch and he denied me the right to say I’m hurting. This was too difficult to me to handle emotionally. There was good pain and bad pain and then the anticipation having to face even more bad pain, if the cock would hit my cunt in the wrong direction, too hard, and he wouldn’t even know. He didn’t know my cunt was hurting too.

How to communicate all this in the small intense time frame that was set aside for the spanking and for the fucking? How to reconcile this with the need to be his good girl and do as I was told?

As he spanked me I came. Even with the emotional ambivalence, yes I did. I respond like the women in Kitty Thomas’ novels even though I can’t quite understand them. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard to reconcile with everything.

But somehow I couldn’t really come, because his cock was filling me to the brim and my cunt couldn’t contract freely and it was all so hard and scary. I don’t know how to explain it. I got to the point of orgasm, my cunt contracted, but couldn’t deliver the contraction because it was stuck in a certain position with his cock and the anticipation of pain and some mystic failure. My arousal dropped and I relaxed, everything looked like the real deal. But I hadn’t had the tingling allover feeling of being taken there. I lost my orgasm.

Later we cuddled and when he was already shifting off to do his own stuff, I finally said that I thought this wasn’t over yet. He answered quite angrily, Well, you should’ve said so earlier, and threw me on my back. He wasn’t really angry, it was all part of the play, but with the incredibly fast sex, with the openly violent spanks and with my not getting off and having no way to reconcile needing more with being a good fuck toy and a good girl, my mood went from fragile to pure sad.

He licked me and finger-fucked me. He fucked me with a dildo, which hurt, and with his fingers in my ass, which really really hurt in bad pinching way. I just felt like my cunt and ass were on fire and not in a good way. I was burning. Why? I have no idea.

I was yelling ouch, ouch and when he thought it was about him slapping me I had to say that It’s your fingers in my ass that hurt! 

He withdrew his fingers and finally I had to ask him to stop altogether.

This won’t work. I’m feeling sad, I said. He sighed and I think actually shaked me a bit coming to cuddle me. What’s wrong?

I didn’t quite know. Why was there wrong pain? Why did I feel bad? We talked and cuddled and then. Then I said it.

Don’t be angry with me. I want to be good to you. I want to be your good girl.

I wasn’t angry. And you were really good. You’re my good girl. He caressed my hair saying this and drew an aroused sigh out of my mouth.

You can say you’ll have to punish me for not telling you earlier, [about not orgasming] but I need you to say “It’s good you bring this to my attention. I’ll decide what happens now. You’re a good girl for telling me this”, I said and hid my face against Wonderboy’s hairy chest and neck.

Hmmm. Okay, Wonderboy said mulling this over. But I wasn’t really angry, he then said again to make sure I understood. It made me breath easier.

It was still too much. With the hitting and the hurting, I said with a little voice.

We will commence this later. You’ll have to wait the whole day to get cock again, he said.

And then he started describing the things he’d do to me. After a while he went down on me and kept describing all the nasty things he’d do. Hurting my nipples with clothespins. Hitting my tits and my inner thighs. Hitting my face. Taking me. Bounding me to the bed. While he was talking he leisurely hit my thigh or twisted my nipple licking me and all the while taking small breaths to tell a new thing he was going to do to me. Later.

Finally I came with a bang. He’s so good at talking nowadays. He knows exactly what to say.

You’ll probably have to wait until tomorrow, though, he said wiping his mouth and holding me in his arms.

I did and it was worth every second of every hour. Dear Lord have mercy oh dear God… (The hoarse blabbering fades into darkness and the camera focuses on a rope curled on the bed.)

I am your good girl, aren’t I, daddy?

To be continued.

Ps. There will be clothespins involved.

BDSM, Coming out, Craving for more, Fantasies, Love, Male Lead Relationship stuff, Sex stories, Submissive tendencies, Wonderboy


I think you can call it protocol, when it’s something we’ve decided that I will have to do, and we abide by it. Right? If not, let me know. It’s hard to talk about this thing, probably only because I don’t want to call it what it is.

And why is that, Rogue Bambi? Why do you hesitate to talk about something that you obviously enjoy tremendously doing?

That’s a tricky one. Well. For one I feel the impossible weight of calling this thing A Male Lead Relationship dragging me down. I’m not ready to let go of the idea of equality in decision making and earning and other aspects I can’t think of right now. I can and do want to be subjected to my wonderful Wonderboy’s dominion, (heh) but for now it’s mostly sex related. It’s not A Male Lead Relationship, it’s A Male Lead Sex Life. The difference is vast, isn’t it?

For me, though, it’s important to feel being in control of some things. Totally in control. I will surrender none of my power in my career, and actually that all has shot trough the roof now that I’ve followed my gut feeling and faced my need to be in this sort of a relationship thing. I’m not struggling so much with everything else. I have no explanations, it’s just an observation. I’m more assertive and sure of myself outside the bedroom now. I get my fair share of being cared for, ordered and loved. I can make decisions about everything else much more easily, because sometimes, lots of times, I get to surrender.

Okay, so, to the subject at hand. We have some protocol in work as we speak. Isn’t it exciting? I know it is for me.

1. I have to ask permission to play with myself.

I failed at this already this week, when I was in a hurry and this incest play (!) we’d done just kept me so revved up I had to do something about it. He was at work and hadn’t answered to my earlier message so I decided (see!) to do it anyway in fear of not getting his word in time. When I told him, he was all mellow and just told me that it happens sometimes. We were cuddling at the time, he was on top of me, and I just kept looking at his eyes, pleading for a punishment. Because if he wouldn’t punish me, what difference would it make? How would I know that it was as important to him as to me that I respected his word over my desire? I knew this was it. Was he going to keep this going, or was this just some game for a short while like before?

And then he slapped me pretty hard four times on the ass and said that I shouldn’t do a thing like that. I should ask him first. Still evolving, still finding the balance. I want him to care. I want him to punish me. I want him to tell me that he owns me and I have no right to tamper with his possession like that. But I guess it’s too soon.

He did make another account for my computer so I could save all the bookmarks and links of porn that get me going. He also uploaded a new comic reader application and created a joint folder for our computers where we can both drop good sexy stuff in. So, it will be our thing, and if either one masturbates, it will still be our thing.

2. I will follow his direct orders.

He’s done it only a couple times, but has always taken his words back, when I’ve asked, Is this really something you want me to do? He’s made some silly ass suggestions, but it is kind of maybe not hot but fun having to face the suggestions and standing my ground. If this is what you command, I will do it. You do realize that? And then he goes all, nah – I’m kidding!

Mostly his commands are good. Once he ordered me to go to bed, because I was so sleepy already, but didn’t want to go to bed yet. I felt so loved, when he did it, and it wasn’t in any way a particular thing. It’s just he took care of me, he noticed me and he evaluated my state and gave an order in accordance to that. That’s the thing with this thing, he has to be vigilant.

3. I can not order him around anymore. At all. I can ask and I can try to persuade, but I can not expect him to yeald to my words.

I have, twice, said No masturbating! when he’s left the room to go do something by himself. And he’s answered with Do you think you can make commands on me? Don’t play with fire girl, I’ll have to punish you otherwise.

But… Knowing me so well he did ask me today, what I’d say, if he’d want to play with himself. He’s sick and on sick leave, so I asked him, if he’s so sick he couldn’t play with me anyway and he answered yes. So of course I said it’d be nice, if he’d play with himself then. But seeing as I was working in the next room and the door was open between us I suggested he tell me, if he starts playing and that way I can let him play in peace.

Later he confessed, angry and frustrated my little feverish boy, that he couldn’t play, because he’s so sick. But he had tried. Without saying anything! He just didn’t want to say anything, because he wasn’t sure, if he could do it. And he couldn’t. This has also been the major reason for him to masturbate and not initiate something with me in the past. I’m mostly always up for a play session or fuck, and sometimes it’s but a dampen on my spirit when I’ve learned that he’s been wanking behind my back even though I fould’ve liked nothing more than to give him a blowjob.

One of the valuable things for us in this new dynamic is that he’s learned that he can always, always initiate play with me. Actually, it’s not so much initiating I guess, because he only commands. Okay now, go and take your clothes off and wait for me in bed. He has also learned that he can be tired, not hard enough, in need of certain stimuli I can’t give – and he’ll still have it all playing with me. Because I am his to command. There’s nothing really he can do by himself that he can’t do with me. Which was proved today.

After swearing he’d definately masturbate after lunch, we sat on the balcony drinking a glass of wine, and he kept looking at my boobs and smiling evily. Wonderboy never looks at my boobs. Never. Except in bed of course. So this is also new entitled behaviour brought forth by our dynamic. I love it. When we got inside he just said plainly Take off your clothes and come to bed. There he made me massage his cock with oil a bit, while he slapped my tits, which he also told me to oil up good, and finger-fucked me. I came, pretty out of the blue, squirted and all, and it was all because he kept slapping my tits so hard.

And because. I hadn’t been at all in the mood and I’d told this to him while having lunch. He knew I didn’t want to have sex. And he decided to get it anyway and commanded me to.

I… I… Yeah. So that’s how it works. For me anyway. And for now.

But then… then. He straddled me and I thought he was going to fuck me with the precum oozing from his cock and entwining us together. But he trew my legs between his and really straddled me. He put my arms so that my tits were up and close together and started to fuck them. And like once before he started to give me lines to deliver.

Beg me to fuck your tits.

And I begged.

I want to come on your face. He’s never done it. He’s said he wants to once or twice the first years, but didn’t do it. Now I knew he was serious, so close to my face, my open mouth and my pretty white skin. I made a scared face to please him. I am a good girl after all. It gave him the kicks I thought it would.

Ask me to come on your face, he demanded.

I did, of course, as I was told. He complied immediately. I just have to gather that it’s insanely hot for him to make me ask for something degrading like that, because this is the second time he’s come on my word.

And he just kept on coming. I could feel five, six ridiculously pouring spurts on my face, running down and flowing over me like nobody’s business. When I though it was safe and opened my eyes, which were also in come, he still kept on going. Damn. So hot.

When he was finally done, (Not finally like that, because I didn’t want it to stop.) I said Hit me. I think of it as begging, not as commanding, but I probably said it like that. He hit me on my face, then on my tits and back on my face again. I felt degraded and I needed to feel more. I needed for him to underline it. I needed to feel not only used but also… not punished but… Forced. I needed it. If he hadn’t hit me, it would’ve been like not giving me an orgasm after he has had his. After the fifth smack on my face, he was truly hitting me harder than before, I came. I squirted all over the bed. He was there, straddling my tummy, and nothing was touching me anywhere near my erogenous zones. I was just… in sub space.

Later I had to ask permission to play a little, because I was reading Kitty Thomas’ Tender mercies* and I just got to the point where Asher contemplates, how he needs to own the woman. There’s something there in owning that just swoons me. I wanted to kneel in front of him when I went to ask, but he was busy doing his own things and I just felt silly about asking him altogether, so I didn’t. But I did ask and he awarded me with this approval in his smile and his kiss. Yes you can. Good of you to ask. Now go and play.

But while making love (I can too call it that!) Wonderboy owned me and marked me and then made me face corporeal punishment to show me he could force me. I loved what he did to me. I didn’t actually want any of it. I would never have written a scene like that, if it was up to me. But it’s his desire and his desire to command me that makes me hot. Evidently even a sick Wonderboy will have sex with me, because he’s getting all his fantasies fullfilled. It’s just too hot to pass up.

In the balcony I remembered, why I hadn’t masturbated in such a long time, he said later, after coming on my face, after slapping me to oblivion. You’re just so hot nowadays. Probably because you’ve bee working out so much. I just can’t keep my hands of you.

I’ve started to wear this little black string around my neck. Like the ones people put silly things like their initials dangling from. It’s what gets his attention. It’s what made him hot in the balcony, and after gazing at it, he started to look at my boobs. It’s a symbol for what we have going on.

It’s symbolic, isn’t it? I asked.

I like symbols, he said.

*Thank you for the recommendation Feministsub! And everybody, if you don’t have a Kindle, you can upload all the ebooks and read them on your browser! This was news to me. Tender mercies cost I think 5 euros and I got to read it right away, although I’m still not finished.

BDSM, Craving for more, Fantasies, Love, Outside the Bedroom, Submissive tendencies

The Big Guns

This has been crazy. Realizing that this is something we both enjoy and need has lead to drastic changes around here. I wish I had time to write about all the sex we’ve had now, because honestly, nothing’s the same. But really, words don’t do it justice. Some readers might think the Best Sex Ever was the same as it ever was, and I can’t argue with that. The change comes from inside. There is no proof.

But talking about kinks, bondage or pain can be one little kink, discipline could be the reason why they fit so well together, like a parent category, but this, this is the mother of all kinks. This is what ties all we need together, this is the sense in all d/s. Everything else, everything leading to this, every impact play or breath play, rape play or bondage seems like a little trick that only tries to catch some meaning, some light. From The Big Guns.

If I really think about it, I have to say that we still have sex with the same kind of power play intact, in the same positions, with most of the same impact plays. Still, the change is drastic. This is an open door for communication. We both feel more free to express what we desire, and also to go after it. And it’s all because we’ve found the base assumption, the power play, the game, the structure for our relationship.

I don’t know what to call it, this new life altering thing I keep referring to. Once again I find the names and labels distasteful, inappropriate or just unapplicable.

He calls me his handmaid. (Yes, it’s an allusion to Margaret Atwood’s Handmaid’s Tale.) Everything I do these days makes him say what a beautiful, good handmaid I’ll make him with some training. The happines is like a viscious loop. I get happy, when I make him happy and he gets happy and remarks on it, which makes me happy. Same goes for sexual experimentation and tension.

In ways we dabble with what is called a male lead relationship or a Taken in hand relationship. In ways I just am his and he mine in a way that encourages a certain dynamic, a power imbalance if you will, in certain actions and reactions.

We’re in no way very good at this. He took me to dinner, but when I ordered lobster, he got anxious, because it’s so expensive at which point I offered to pay for the drinks. The egalitarianism is much more than a thin film of etiquette between us.

I, on the other hand, drove us home, because he doesn’t like driving (and the car is mine) although for me it really is sexy if he drives, because it’s not the norm for us.

I see a pattern here. Because we strive to be equal in every way, and have been brought up to be, it has a certain meaning to us that we act like we aren’t.  It’s a lot taboo and a bit ridiculous and terribly hot. It most certainly is a game, but it’s very close to real, because I honestly want to please my Wonderboy more than anything, and he wants me to surrender to him completely. He also wants and needs to please me. I think this is the thing that many people criticising consented non-consent, which this also is, truly miss. He is trying to fulfill my desires, sometimes by not heeding to my word and sometimes having to use extra effort to make me happy.

If I can say one thing about this week and this weekend, it’s the fact that, if I’m all spent and can’t even muster up a few words here (I’ve been writing this post since Friday) because of my total fatigue, Wonderboy is ten times more out of it. He’s been really busting his balls to be a good dom and an owner. And, boy, has he! I’m so thoroughly played, owned, loved, fucked and mind-fucked that I actually started to cry after sex. Really cry, out loud. And he took care of me and later said that he realized I was overwhelmed and scared, as I was, and he saved me. But I was crying also because I never thought I’d deserve any of this. I’d hidden it so well, the need and the fantasies, I could never have thought that this would come to be reality for me. That I could get everything I ever wanted…

I don’t know, if you can understand how completely overwhelming that is. Wonderboy asked me, if I could’ve imagined us like this a few years back or having these things in the open and playing with them, and I had to confess that I didn’t even accept these needs, let alone think that they could ever be part of a relationship I was in. He said that his fantasies have always been the same, so he’s not as surprised as I am… but this thing about it coming alive… is as overwhelming to him as to me. My fantasies about submitting are still narrated through the dominant side. I fantasise from the male perspective, still, so it’s a lot more shocking to see how it all plays out in reality, when I am actually submitting. And then again. I rarely think about it anymore. I ask for what I want and submit to what I feel is Wonderboy’s will, and I don’t think about what it could mean in a different context, because this is the only context it will ever have.

I’m not sure, if I’m really ready to write about this yet. I don’t yet understand this dynamic, I don’t know how it’ll turn out for us. If we’ll start going more heavy duty and 24/7 or just keep it light and use as we see fit, mostly sexually. I’m sill a bit afraid to even write about it, and I can’t talk about it with anyone. We are just so happy, so extatic, that I feel the need to say something to someone about it. So, I write here even with everything still so fragile and new.

This has changed my life. I have a purpose.

Coming out, Craving for more, Fantasies, Learning to negotiate, Love, Submissive tendencies, Unanticipated Satisfaction, Wonderboy

The (Slave) Talk

Sorry to have kept you in suspence such a long day. I want to start with saying that things totally turned around tonight, yet again. Wonderboy went to bed with new found self-esteem and I’m here, deliriously happy, writing to you guys. You’ve all been tremendously helpful and my life is so much better, when I have you there. I mean it.

Well. Back to my So Called Life.

The dramatic revelation that Wonderboy would like to have sex with unidentified females of our species (See, how I’m not at all bothered by it anymore… Rowr!) sent me first to sleep on the couch, then the other room (our so called cigar room) and then finally, I hesitate to tell you this, to the walk-in closet. Yes. I actually slept in the closet the few hours of sleep I got between 4 and 6 before Wonderboy went to work.

Are you out of the closet now? Wonderboy asked me today, and you know what? I think I am. 

It was an awful day. I spent it crying, devastated. I took a sleeping pill and slept through the day with the little help. We had a messaging conversation going on the whole day in which Wonderboy was loving and wise and I was devastated and fatalistic. I’m really good at that.

Finally Wonderboy reacted and texted me saying, Listen, you’re the one who has had this experience with a guy, who wants to be spanked by someone else and has already talked about it with someone else, who has a profile on Fetlife and is thinking of going to a munch. I just said I’d be curious about having sex with other women. I have no plan or experiences. 

I was like. Yeah. True. I’m the one, who has been skating in the border of our agreement. Even though I didn’t do anything, I still skated. There’s no denying that. And I also was the one who brought opening our relationship up. I did it. Why do I only blame him?

Me: It’s just world’s away from what I proposed. I feel like I’ve been labouring under a wrong impression. If you want to fuck other women, it’s something I hadn’t expected, because I’m happy and content with just us.

WB: If it makes you feel bad, let’s just forget it! You are my love, don’t worry.

I came home, he came home. To skip to the juicy bits, we were lying in bed as always. I had a double wall of duvet between us, and he was trying to hug me with no success. What’s wrong? he asked very innocently, loving, worried.

Suddenly I had words. They flew out of my mouth. I talked about, how I never meant to suggest having sex with other people. How it made me feel bad about myself and lost somehow.

I just realized that I need more, something more d/s, when I was with mister M. I didn’t want him, I didn’t want to have sex with him, but he made me realize there was something missing. 

You know, when I’ve tried to make you make me do the dishes or something? It’s not like it has to be spanking, that was just the easiest thing to explain. I think I need more of that. Like, spanking without any sex. I feel like it’s not necessarily always about sex for me. You know, how I’ve sometimes asked you not to touch my cunt, when you’ve spanked me? I crave it differently. And you haven’t been wanting to do that. I’ve felt that maybe it’s not something you like since I’ve asked, and nothing’s happened. It’s also so embarassing. It’s just something so silly. Something not sexual. So pervy, I can hardly say it.

It doesn’t even have to be with someone else. I just need more. More d/s.

I started to cry and he just smiled at me, took me to his arms and cradled me. I didn’t know what it meant yet, but I was about to find out later on.

I can understand that, he said.

Maybe it was also easier picturing it with someone I don’t know, I confess. Because I’m so humiliated by wanting it.

He cradles me. I don’t know, if he’s thinking I will have to get someone else to fill the gap or not.

He says then that he is just curious about sex with other people, since he’s never had any – wouldn’t you be? I agree and then let him know that I just can’t face him trying things out. I say that this is what I was afraid of from the start and that he had made an informed decision when he got into a relationship with me. Other people were never on the table. I also add that sex can be so meaningless that it hardly seems worthwile for all of my suffering for it.

I also say that I’d fall in love, if I had sex with people other than him, people I like, and that it wouldn’t do us any good. Especially I thought about my friend K, and told him so (incidently the first person, who came to mind, when we talked about opening up).

But if you only did it once? he asked.

It wouldn’t work like that. I couldn’t stop myself, if I had been allowed there once.

What about, if I ordered you to? If I was there?

God, it was such a hot thought. It still lingers in my brain. Me, Wonderboy and my friend K. Maybe, maybe one day it could be possible. But to avoid more confusion and drama, I said nothing about that.

It would be undeniably hot, I said. But I couldn’t handle the same from you. He smiled gently and caressed my face. He took it in with calmness. Didn’t seem he was losing that much.

You’ve been so good with that, I say to him when he rolls on top of me, hugging me and kissing me. I mean with me and K’s history and the fact that he’s never once doubted me about it now.

I’m good with sex things, he says and I have to agree.

But would that be the end of the world, if you can’t fuck anyone else? I ask, kind of worried.

Nah, he said.

So, then we don’t do it? he asked.

What is our agreement now? he added.

I guess the same as always, I said. No kissing… I didn’t have to finish.

But you would want a little spanking? he asked.

Maybe. If it was okay with us both and the person was allright.

And, for me, to spank someone a little too…

Of course!

That could be nice, he smiled. And then he hugged me really tight.

He smiles secretively so I ask. What about?

I’m just thinking about what I could make you do around here, he says. The dishes for example. My heart skips a beat. And the vacuuming, he adds looking around.

It’s your turn to vacuum! It doesn’t work like that! I exclaim.

Well, the dishes then. You will do them. Naked. And in high heels.

My cunt likes the idea. That would be wonderful, I smile and bury my face against his neck.

I’d need you to command me and inspect upon me, too, though, I say then, worried that he’d just leave me to do his bidding.It’s not enough, if you only give me tasks or commands.

I need you to care.

What about… feminism? he asks. Wouldn’t you feel weird and unegalitarian living with 24/7 d/s like that? Wouldn’t you feel abused having to do so much housework.

Well, we’d say when it starts and is over, right? We’d decide. A collar would help. I’d only be your slave, when it’s on.

I want us to get a real whip, I blurt suddenly, extaticly. And a collar. I want a collar, so I know who I belong to.

I’ll be the one deciding about that, he exclaims and makes me inhale with excitement. His tone of voice is different. Dangerous. Low.

Now I’m going to go play some guitar and drink some wine. And you’re going to put those heels on and go do the dishes. Now. And when you’re done, I’ll come and inspect everything. You’d better be done before I am. Then you can come and massage my feet when I play. Or just kneel near them.

I stagger up from the bed and put on the black patent pumps.

Go on then, I haven’t got the whole day, he commands. Go find my glass and pour me some wine while your at it.

My heart sings, and I go.

To be continued…

(Sorry to leave you hanging, but I gotta sleep some before I go any further! Also, sorry for any discontinuities. 4 hours of sleep is getting to me. The closet is not the best place to be. Just saying.)