Getting out there

I thought I was going to write this blog in chronological order, and though I am still sticking with that idea, some posts are a little bit out of order, but over all these life experiences have made me who I am today and have somehow contributed to my desire to explore BDSM.

One of the first Dom's I ever met one on one, was Kirk.  He was a few years older than me, but we were close enough in age to have had similar life experiences.  He was between jobs and didn't have a car.  As nice as Kirk was, I had a difficult time seeing him as a Dom.  I may come across materialistic, but I jut believe that any man Dom or not should be able to bring a minimum of what I bring to the table. 

I wasn't one to give up easily, but when weeks passed without him finding work, his lack of motivation spoke louder to me than any words I heard him say.  Kirk was a nice enough guy, so I was still open to hanging out.  We went out one night with a group of my friends and he got totally wasted drunk, was acting like a fool. I knew not only could I could never submit to such a man, I couldn't really respect him either.   We were club hopping that night and at each bar, Kirk just got more and more intoxicated.  I was easy going enough to brush it off, but his hanging off of me and making rude comments to anyone and everyone was more than my friends could take.  As we were entering a new club, unknown to me, one of my friends whispered to the bouncer not to let Kirk into the club, he was still stumbling to get out of the cab and I didn't really pay attention to what was going on.  Next thing I know, I was having a great time, and asked if anyone had seen Kirk.  Someone said he had gone home, which was a relief for me.  He called me the next day to ask why I left him outside the club and what a shithole it must of been because the bouncers wouldn't let him in.  I found out later that my friends had, had enough of Kirk's obnoxious ways and made sure he didn't get in.

The BDSM community was small enough that I would run into Kirk at random events, we were polite, maybe even friendly but there was no possibility there.  I would meet other men like Kirk in the future, far too many to mention all of them, men who were floundering, who had no direction or discipline in their lives and I knew from my interactions with Kirk to weed these men out.  I could not submit to a man who was not the master of his own life.

I was trying to desperately to hold out for that deep D/s relationship that I read about but seldom saw.  I was always surrounded by the temptation and offers to play.   The desire to play and experience this lifestyle I would at times lower my standards, which I never felt were too high, just to feel something.

It was almost 10 years ago that I went to my first real play party.  Lilly had rented a hall and was providing a traditional Ukrainian Christmas meal, which she and her friends cooked and served.  She had a friend bartending and a portion of the hall was sectioned off as a dungeon which was filled with was all kinds of different pieces of furniture and equipment.   Ms. Lee and I agreed to go to event together, there was something nice about not walking into something like that alone.  As the song goes the weather outside was frightful and Lilly's Master, who was a truck driver was running behind because of road conditions, so supper was going to be delayed until he arrived.  This gave us a chance to explore the dungeon and mingle.  Ms. Lee and I got our pictures taken in front of a St. Andrew's cross,  I even stood on it, but I was too nervous to be strapped to it.  (it's funny to think back on how cautious I was back then) . 

This night was an evening of meeting many people for the first time.  There was Rose; who I had seen in chatrooms before. She was a friend of Lilly's and was a collared slave to a Master in another province.   I had a hard time understanding how this relationship worked beyond the internet because Rose was bound to her wheel chair because of MS.  It wasn't that Rose was in a wheelchair that made me question the relationship, and I couldn't pin point what it was, but something didn't sit right with me, when it came to her and her relationship with her Master.  I later found out that Rose was taking pornographic pictures of her child for this man.  They both were arrested.  Their Master/slave relationship came up in court and sympathetic court system never made Rose do any prison time.  The whole thing was disgusting to me.  Just because a person is disabled, or identifies themselves as a sub or slave in my opinion these things do not give you the right to abuse a child and people should be punished to the fullest extent of the law if such things do occur.

There was Ann and her Master Mike and a cute lil chick they had with them.  I was at a party they were having and I spent the night flirting with that cute lil chick, but never saw her again after that.  Though I don't see them often Ann and Mike were what I would consider a "normal" couple.  I still see them at events around town.

There was Larry who I would see on occassion in chatrooms, he often came across as a grouchy bear, and in real life he also lived up to the impression I had of him.  He was married to a submissive woman, but she didn't sub for him, because she couldn't handle him as he put it, so she subbed for another Dom and Larry had a young pain slut as his sub.  Another relationship dynamic I had a difficult time wrapping my head around, but I had gotten to the point where I came to realize I didn't need to understand, approve or disapprove of anyone, their relationship or how they lived their lives, I just needed to figure out what worked for me.  Being surrounded by so much dysfunction did discourage me at times.  I often thought I will never find a "normal" relationship in the lifestyle.  One thing I could appreciate about Larry was that he was a very talented man and he made beautiful floggers.  He was selling floggers that evening and he had a soft pink, suede one.  It was beautiful.  He said that from all my talk of loving the color pink in the chatrooms he thought I would appreciate it.  I didn't have anyone to flog me, but $40.00 I now had my very own flogger.  Larry ended up passing away from Cancer and though I did not know him well I know many people in the community were touched by his life.  When I see my pink flogger I think of him.

I was introduced to Dale and Norma.  He was a man of few words, but he was beautiful, with his chiseled features and long blond hair.  She was much more open, and out going.  I would later be invited to their home to explore the possibility of being a sister slave.  Though I can admire the beauty of another woman, I am not really into women, so I was more into him than I was ever into her, and because of their relationship dynamic I was creating unnecessary drama in their lives.  It was a few intense weeks, but in the end I walked away. 

I met Ken and his sister Terry.  They had both been exploring the lifestyle, separately and one day discovered they were into the same thing.  They said it was a little weird to find that out about each other at first, but it had become a non issue.  Ken I and would become friends, we would hang out, go to events together and even just out for dinner together.  Terry ended up finding her soulmate in the lifestyle and they had their collaring ceremony at an outdoor play party they held every year.  It was at one of their play parties that I met my Master/husband.

 Though neither of us played, we both met some really great people.  I had my pink flogger that I bought from Larry and as a door prize I also won one of Paula's rope floggers. Over all Ms. Lee and I agreed that the event was a success.

The power of words and planting seeds.

I mentioned in my previous post that I was learning to understand how the object of ones desire could also be the object of ones fear or disdain. I believe words can have the same effect. Let me explain.

When I was a young girl, I was always very well behaved. I did as I was told, I respected authority and avoided those who could get me into trouble. In junior high I didn't go out the back door of the school because that's where the "bad" kids hung out smoking. I later learnt from my best male friend that some of the boys called me a big boobed tighty. That would change.

I entered high school and I found myself hanging out with the "bad kids", smoking and do all kinds of things that was completely out of character for me. I was starting to challenge some of my thoughts, started expanding my mind and discovering who I was, or so I thought. I was attracting the attention of some "bad boys" and I liked how I felt around them. I loved their "could give a shit" attitude, I liked that they took charge, they didn't care what others thought and I felt safe with them, nobody fucked with me when I was hanging out in this crowd, with these boys. My taste for bad boys followed me out of high school and I started to see Danny.

Danny lived with some buddies in a sparsely furnished apartment, which was a party place and crash pad for anyone and everyone. Girl's would come and go and depending on who they were with and how long they had been in the picture dictated how well they were treated. It amazed me how these girls would let these guys treat them like crap and still they stuck around. I wasn't going anywhere and I was Danny's girl, so I was the shit. If I needed something from the store, one of the boys would go and get it for me. If I needed the phone, who ever was using it got off, if I didn't like a girl at the apartment, she had to go, unless she was a sure thing for one of the guys then in that case, I had to put up with her, but I didn't have to be nice to her. Whatever I wanted I got all because I was Danny's girl and it was Danny who dictated how I was treated.

I loved the power he had, it turned me on. Every once in awhile he would exert his power over me to let the guys know he wasn't pussy whipped and I suppose also to keep me in my place. For example; we would be sitting around playing cards and Danny would look at me, get a cocky smile across his face and say, I think I need to fuck you after this hand. I would blush, mortified that he announced his intentions to everyone to hear, but also by his choice of words. I would protest and say, "You fuck a hooker, but you make love to your girlfriend" He would laugh and say he wasn't going to argue over details as everyone else at the table would laugh along with him. His lack of tact and discretion, somehow turned me on. I liked being put on display. In many ways I wasn't so different from the other girls who would come to the apartment. I knew I would gladly spread my legs for him, but still I was trying to somehow hold onto my good girl image.

One word Danny loved was the "C" word. I hated it. He would chase me around his place saying it. I would lock myself in the bathroom and he would slip notes under the door with that one simple word on it. We could be dancing in the kitchen while making dinner and he would whisper the word in my ear, his embrace too tight upon me to escape his grasp. We would wrestle like UFC fighters, no holds barred. All I needed to do was say the word and it would be over, but I was stubborn and I loved being flipped and man handled, I also liked fighting back. No matter how hard I would fight, he would always get me pinned and the only way for my release was to say the "C" word. Oh I hated it, absolutely despised the word, yet I so loved wrestling. Looking back now maybe I enjoyed being "forced" to do something.
 
I had been so wrapped up in portraying myself as a good girl that I didn't tell anyone I was dating Danny. He would encourage me to go out with my friends and I would go on my own, but when he would offer to take me out where ever they were, I would suggest doing something else. He knew I didn't want him around my friends, but he didn't know why and it would piss him off. They knew who Danny was, but when I tried to bring him up they would tell me to stay away from him, he was bad news. It was ok for my friends to date messed up guys, but for some reason, they held me to a different standard, they felt I was naive and needed protecting, so I never told them I was with Danny.

I still went out with my friends, enough to get to know most of the staff at the Asian owned, night club they were frequenting. Some of the group had gotten jobs at the club waitressing and bouncing. Over time, I got to know one of the owners very well. Jay enjoyed gambling and would often take me to the casino with him; as his lady luck he would say. The deal was I would stand by Jay while he gambled, maybe help him place some of his chips, he would buy me drinks, I would get 50% of his profits if he won, if he lost it cost me nothing, and then, when the night club would just be getting busy he would take me back to party with my friends and that is exactly what happened. I never gambled and most nights I was leaving the casino with more money in my purse than I started with. It seemed harmless enough, so when my friends would warn me to be careful I didn't know what I needed to be careful of, besides I had Danny. At first Danny thought it was funny, but the more it happened the less he liked me going there at all.

Danny and I had always had an understanding; he would go out with his friends, I would go out with mine and we would hook up at his place when the night was over. There were even times when Jay would drive me to Danny's apartment, after the club was shut down, because he lived close by. Then Danny started showing up at the club, before he headed out with his friends, I'm not sure if he was checking up on me or letting Jay know that he was around, but he would walk into the place, give everyone attitude, call Jay out and leave pissed off. My friends grew to dislike him even more and though he would make Jay angry, Jay never treated me any differently.

I was working in retail at the local shopping mall, but I never questioned where the Danny and his friends got their money, how they paid their bills, or how Danny was able to give me jewelry and take me out, when none of them worked. I worried about it at times, but they seemed invicable to me. Incinciable; until one day we arrived at the apartment and nobody was there to buzz us in. Danny didn't have a key to his own apartment because there was always someone there. It was freezing outside and we had no place to go, so he climbed 3 stories of balconies and went in through the unlocked patio door. When he came down to let me in, I could tell something wasn't right. Back in the apartment, we read the note on the table. The note was not addressed to anyone, but rather everyone. Something about the police being by, that the place was attracting too much heat and nobody should stay there. Everyone was to lie low, nobody was to try and contact each other until it was safe to come out of hiding. I didn't know what they were dealing with, but I now understood why the place was so sparely furnished, they had to be able to walk away and leave everything behind, and that's what they did.

If I hadn't of been with Danny that night, he would be gone too, where I didn't know, but I couldn't go with him. I still lived at home, and I could go home, I should go, he needed to leave the apartment, but he insisted on us having that night, so I stayed. We were both too paranoid and jumpy to relax and enjoy our time together. The phone rang off the hook, but he wouldn't answer it. He would say "Could be the cops outside the door waiting on us to answer the phone before breaking the door down". All the lights had to stay off, not to attract the attention of any police that maybe monitoring the place from outside. I wasn't scared for me, I hadn't done anything wrong, but I was scared for him, I didn't know what he had done and it wasn't the time to ask. So we held each other, cried and fell into a restless sleep. The next morning, he took me home and kissed me goodbye. That was the last time I saw him before he was arrested.

My world had been turned upside down. I was a messed up girl, pretending to be good, with my boyfriend in jail for who knows what with no friends to talk to about what I was feeling or going through. So I stuffed everything, deep down inside of me, put a smile on my face and carried on like nothing happened.

In some ways life became easier without Danny around. I didn't have worry about sneaking around behind my friend's backs. I no longer had to explain why I wasn't going out with them or answer questions on where I was going and who I was with and God forbid I told my mom I was with one of them and then they called my place looking for me while I was with him. All that drama was over. I realise now I created much of that trying to please everyone, and acting as I was expected to, rather than standing up and saying this is the way it is; deal with it. I didn't want to disappoint anyone. In the process I would at times ditch and lie to my friends to be with Danny and vise versa.

By this time, most of my friends assumed I was sleeping with Jay because he gave me way too much, in their opinions. Free drinks, free money, free clothes, ect. I wasn't sleeping with Jay, but one night after the club was closed, I found myself in the ladies bathroom. It was time for me to pay for all those free things. I had drank way too many Seagram's Wild Berry coolers, I didn't know what time it was, or where my friends were, I was leaning over the sink, puking up the purple coolers, when he came in. I yelled at him to get out and to get one of my friends, I needed someone to hold my hair back. He started to kiss my my neck, and told me that my friends had gone home, everyone had gone home. I started to cry and told him to leave me alone. I continued to puke as he reached around me and undid my pants, as I was telling him to stop he was saying "Come on baby, just two minutes, let me make love to you" You know how much I want you. Danny is in jail now you can be with me now" I had used him, and now he was going to use me. I must of been sexy with puke dripping down my chin as he had his way with me. He was right he was done in two minutes and in that time I knew I was a different person. He drove me home, I don't recall thinking about anything on that long ride home. He tried to kiss me goodnight before I got out of the car.

This pic speaks loudly to me.

Danny used the word "Fuck" and Jay had used the words "make love", how fucked was that!?! I think I would rather fuck than make love. The power of words and the seeds they planted became very evident to me that the days following that night.   The thing that was the most fucked up about all of this is that I continued to let Jay use me after that and for more than a year.  For the life of me I don't know why!?!

I knew this would not of happened if Danny had not been in jail. I also knew it would not of happened if I had not accepted all those "free" things. I felt guilty and stupid. When Danny would call I never found the words to tell him what had happened and when I would write the words never made it to the page. I just stuffed it deep inside of me. A letter came in the mail one day from Danny, in addition to the letter was a piece of paper that had been folded, and folded and folded on the outside of the paper was "The word of the day is" once unfolded the entire page was covered in the word Cunt. It still is a harsh word, but I can handle that harshness now.  Danny was going to be locked up for a couple of years, and though I continued to accept his calls and letters, he was behind bars and I wasn't.

Words are powerful.  They can invoke great desire, or wretched disgust.  Words left unspoken can also speak very loudly.  I won't give up any more than I already have to jay, by eliminating "make love" from my vocabulary, but when I hear those two words together I will most likely think of him, and when I hear the word "Cunt"  I remember Danny fondly.  He ended up straightening out his life, and he is now married with children.  As for Jay, I have no idea what happened to him.  His club shut down, and the building has been converted to lofts, when I drive by it I think of him, not so fondly, but without hate.  I think I have forgiven him, but more importantly I have forgiven myself. 

Beauty in this new world

Last night Master and I had dinner with a wonderful Dom and his sub.  While we were visiting our conversation reminded me of the beauty of this lifestyle and of a Beauty I met many years ago.  Follow me back down memory lane and I will share with you the details.

Besides this lifestyle, I wasn't sure what I had in common with John, Paula or any others that I met, but each person shared a piece of themselves with me and for that I was thankful.  I was thankful to John and Paula for being the first people to meet with me in person, to make me feel comfortable and safe enough to ask silly questions, for showing my my first flogger, paddle, crop and cane.  Lilly for opening her home to everyone and giving us a place to gather and a chance to meet others. 
Though I had met some great people in the scene, I was still exploring alot on my own.  I learnt over time that munches and events were safe to attend and I was still trying to find myself so I did not want to get tied down to others.  At times I could be too easily influenced and lead by others and I needed to find my own way. 
At was one of the first munches I went to, held in a downtown burger place that had a pub in the back.  I was sitting back observing the cliquey crowd, still intimidated to speak with most Doms, though I was fresh meat and was attracting more attention than I was sure what to do with.  John and Paula were there so I had some friendly faces in the crowd to make me feel more comfortable.  That's when I saw her, she was a classy lady, dressed with style and sass, her short spiky hair was cutting edge and her dark framed glasses were a perfect accessory.  She reminded me of a teacher.  Though she was a few years older than me I knew she was a person I would have something in common with.  I didn't know if she was sub or Domme, but I knew she was someone I wanted to meet. 
Some how I ended up at a table with a group of others and had the opportunity to meet this lady.  I will call her Lee.  She was slightly guarded, as was I but she had a mischievous smile and bright eyes.  Like me, Lee was new to this lifestyle and she was trying to find her place.   She expressed herself in such an eloquent way and yet when others spoke, one knew, she not only heard the words that passed over their lips but they would sense that she was wanted to understand that person.  She was a kindred spirit and for the first time while making my way through this crazy maze, I felt like I met someone who spoke my language. 
I would later learn that Ms. Lee identified herself as a Domme, which didn't surprise me.  There was something about her and I just knew.  She was also married, to a nice man that wasn't really into exploring BDSM with her, living in suburbia in a nice home, it was evident that Ms. Lee liked to surround herself with nice things.  She was a stay at home mom raising her bright and witty teen aged son. 
Over time Ms. Lee and I became very good friends, she would call me jellybean and I would call her Beauty.  We would go to events together, meet for coffee, brunch, lunch or dinner, I would hang out with her and her family, as two typical women we would shop together, after work I would go to her house and sit in her kitchen and we would talk over a cup of tea.  Of course the lifestyle was one of our favourite topics, but we talked about everything.  She knew where I worked, and I never had to worry about her "outting" me.  I liked Ms. Lee.  She is a great person and it was refreshing to have more in common with someone else in this lifestyle besides only the lifestyle.
One morning after having a sleep over, where we watched Disney movies and eat popcorn, we were talking about the kennel she use to keep her dog in when it was a pup.  Oh a kennel would be a fun play thing, I swooned.  She chuckled and said she was pretty sure she knew exactly where under the stairs the metal cage was.  Once we dug it out and dusted it off, I was so excited by the thought of being inside of it, she suggested pictures of me in the cage.....oh even more exciting, but my sweat pants and T shirt didn't really fit the image I had in my head.  We headed upstairs to her room to find something more appropriate to wear.  She found a lacy, satin, teddy.  It was perfect, it showed enough, yet left enough for the imagination, covered enough that I wasn't really showing any naughty bits.  Once I was properly dressed for the occasion we headed back downstairs and she snapped a couple of pictures.  I loved being in that cage.  It felt safe and I was comfortable there.  Now of course, it's one thing to be in a cage with attention focused on me, it would be another to be placed in a cage and left.  I was starting to understand how an object of one's fantasy could also be the object of one's fear.  Somewhere along the way I lost the pictures of me in that wonderful cage and over time Beauty and I grew apart, but my first time in a cage and my friendship with an amazing woman will be with me forever. 

The picture below is not me, but it is very fitting for this post.

Think Pink

Three pics of me in my favorite color PINK!!!!  The blonde ones are old, but still fun.

Then a couple of pink pics I found while perving

Trip down memory lane

As I have been going back in my memory re-living this journey, it made me think of all the emails were sent between my Master/husband and I.  I thought I would share a story I wrote and then Master's version of the same story.

Mine;
I imagine you are sitting at your desk right now before heading off to work. I wander into the room, all sleepy, rubbing my eyes. In need of some time with you before work takes you away from me for the day. "There's my girl" you say smiling as you point at the floor in front of you. I kneel before you, you cup my face in your hands and kiss my forehead, as my fingers clumsily fumble with the zipper on your jeans. You look down at me chuckling, knowing what i want before you leave. Today you have few extra moments to finish your coffee and read your emails before leaving . So you indulge me. You stand before me, allowing me to pull your pants down. I rub my face between your legs, inhaling the scent of your freshly showered body, feeling your ridged, hard cock encased in your briefs. I look up at you for permission to reach into your underwear. You simply smile and nod. I take you in my hands and start to lick your shaft, like a lollipop making it sloppy and wet, then with one deep thrust of your hips, your hard cock slides through my lips deep into my mouth. As you stroke my hair, i can feel you push down on my head as i hungrily try to take every inch of you. Gagging at times my eyes water as your cock hits the back of my throat, and you pull my head back so you can look down at me as you sit in your chair allowing me to greedily suck your dick. Just before you blow your load you pull my face into you so that i can get every last drop of your cum..."That's a good slut, make sure you clean me up for work " you say as i hold the cum in my mouth, milking your cock. Once you are sure i have cleaned you well enough you release my head and allow me to play with the cum in my mouth, letting it drip down my chin as i swirl it around with my tongue. You glance at the clock and by the stern look on your face i know you have to go. I swallow the load in my mouth and using my tongue and fingers i lap up the mess I've made all over my lips, chin and cheeks . I walk you to the door for a goodbye kiss. As your truck pulls out of the drive way I begin to miss you already.


His;

This morning as I sit at my desk getting ready to go to work I look up and
see you get out of bed. "There's my girl" I say as I point to the floor in
front of me, you quickly obey, not wanting to be forced so early in the
morning. I lean over and kiss you softly on the forehead, my hands cupping
your beautiful face, your hands go to the zipper on my pants. With a head
still full of sleep you fumble with my zipper, my hand grabs the hair at the
back of your neck, you know I am becoming impatient and want to give you my
all my cum before I have to go.

You pull my cock out of the fly of my pants and finally free I stand, you
pull my pants down hungerly, you rub your face all over my thighs and
crotch, licking and kissing my legs, breathing in the essence that is me. I
see you look up at me, your question obviously apparent in your eyes, I
smile and nod.

Quickly you free my cock from my underwear and you greadly lick and suck on
it, my cock glistens with your saliva which you massage in to my balls with
one hand. I thrust my hips forward and your lips open to accept my hard wet
cock, deeper I push until I can feel the back of your throat. I grasp your
head in my hands and try and penetrate your throat, stabbing my cock in to
your mouth over and over.

Your gagging excites me, spit drips from your mouth on to your body, tears
form in the corner of your eyes, you look so sexy with my hard cock impaling
your mouth. I sit on my chair and allow you to continue, I can never last
too long with your slutty little mouth hungerly sucking my cock, I want to
feed you my cum, I want you to take it all, I want you to have a piece of me
in you all day.

My hands pull your head deep on to my throbing cock as jet after jet of cum
explode in to your mouth, "That's a good slut, make sure you clean me up for
work" I command as you milk every drop of cum from my cock. When I am
satisified that I am clean I release your head allowing you to play with it,
some dripples on to your chin and you swallow the rest as I give you a
stearn look, you better have not made me late. I stand and fix my pants as
you clean every drop from your chin and cheeks with your fingers, sucking
every drop from them, you lick your lips, savouring every drop. You walk me
to the door and I kiss you passionatly, you know that you have done a good
job and that I am pleased. As my truck pulls away I can feel my longing for
you already and curse the hours untill we can be together again.

I was thinking flowers once a month isn't unreasonable!?!

My First BDSM Gathering

John and Paula, had agreed to meet me at their friend Lilly's place.  Lilly lived in a town house where she was a stay at home mom, to her toddler son and her Master.  It wasn't the biggest place, but she opened her home up to this crowd every Friday night as a place to gather with like minded people. When I arrived, Lilly answered the door, she was a plump, short lady in her late twenties or early thirties with a warm smile. The living room was full of people, John and Paula were already there. Introductions were made around the room and I took a seat on the floor near John along side the rest of the subbies, while the Doms and Dommes sat on the furniture. I enjoyed being on the floor, I was comfortable there. I can usually chat the ear off of most people, but that evening I sat back and watched and listened. John's wife was there with her subbie, such a strange situation that I was still trying to wrap my head about that one, but she too was nice, and though it was easy to see she was Domme in comparison to Paula and Lilly she was fun and had a hearty laugh. 
 Lilly's son stayed up long enough to get a chance to say hello to everyone, then he would head up stairs, waving at the group over the banister as he went and she would tuck him into bed for the night. It was strange to me that people in this lifestyle would expose their children to "these people" but when I lumped myself in with the group I knew that despite being kinky, I was very good with children and would never do any harm to any child, but I'm not sure I would be the person opening my home up to this crowd either.   I had expected that this group of kinky people would be dressed whorishly, doing and saying things that no child should be exposed to.  The reality was that most of these people were just dressed in everyday clothes, some of the subs wore a collar around their necks, but other than that these were just average people getting together, talking about everyday things.  It was not overly exciting, but it was nice to be in the company of the like minded people, over the next few years every once in a while I would hang out at Lilly's on those Friday nights.  On one of those nights John offered to show me the dungeon.  I was nervous, as I was lead down stairs to the basement.   I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but I expected more.  Once my foot landed on the cold concrete floor I looked around,  a washer and dryer against the far wall, a wooden framed twin bed in the middle of the room, a roughly constructed "spanking bench" and some chains hanging from the rafters.  I had hoped the room would invoke fantasies of wonderfully erotic scenes, it was not a place I could imagine myself playing  in.

. 

Beautiful Welts and Bruises

Beautiful Black and White Pics

Bad girl on a good girl's pedestal

I knew my chosen career was about as conservative as joining a catholic nunnery.  It was steeped in tradition, customs, rituals, superstitions and despite the fact that we were in a new millennium I was still only, one of a few handfuls of women who were breaking into this very male dominated industry.  The majority of my co-workers were twice my age. They had traditional ideas of a woman's place, and for many it was not work along side them.  Each of these men dealt with the high level of stress in different ways; some had held fast to their own personal faith, others had used laughter as their medicine, and had amazing senses of humour, others by drinking their day away, some had a women on the side other than their wives to escape to and the closet or openly gay men may be found in the dark corners of one of the local gay clubs, trying to hide what they do from the hot young thing, they were trying to pick up; as much as I wanted to hide what I do for a living from the kinksters.
I needed these men to respect me as their peer but also as a woman.  I had to watch what I said, how I dressed and the amount make up I wore.  Physically I could not always do what they could do, but I could type up their paper work faster than they could and that opened some doors for me.  Instead of cursing and swearing at me for what I couldn't do, they were coming to me to ask for help, the tables were turning in my favour.  I'm not a very patient girl, but I knew over time my patience would pay off.  They started taking a bit of extra time to show me the ropes and their little tricks of the trade.  Mr. T gave me many tips on how I should communicate with my co-workers and supervisors, if I needed a specialised piece of equipment to do my job and the reason I needed it was because I was a girl, he would help me word my request in such away that I could get what I needed.  If I was taking the lead on some work, he suggested how I should delegate tasks.
 I didn't just want to be treated like one of the boys, I was the only female in this crowd and I knew if I could elevate myself in their eyes to where they respected me, they would treat me better than they treated the boys.  It didn't take me long before I found myself on a pedestal and I had a different understanding and relationship with each man I worked with and even with most of the contractors we worked along side with.  Some confided in me and shared sad and lonely parts of their lives with me, others treated me like their daughter or sister and tried to protect me, some were always trying to make me smile.  The thing with being on a pedestal is you aren't given much room to move and if a girl wasn't careful and she stepped out of line she was liable to fall off of her perch, a position she could never re-gain if she lost it.  On the other hand, I had this burning desire growing deep inside of me to let my hair down, to set aside the boring business suit, and release some of the stress.  If I was going to venture out into the world of BDSM I had to be very selective of who I shared the details of my life with. 
When John and Paula offered to take me to a play party at another submissive's place, I was excited to go along.  John assured me that I was not required to play with anyone and that being that I was with him, I was under his protection.  I was pleased to find out that it was customary to introduce people by their online name.  The name I had chosen at the time was insideofme, because I felt that is described where my desire to explore BDSM and where my submissiveness came from. Short for insideof me; I was introduced as inny , I couldn't get much more anonymous that that, so for now my career felt safe.  John later recommended that I consider changing my nic to something with less of a sexual connotation as I found I was attracting the wrong kind of attention.  So ever since then I am known as richelle or lippylilgirl.
The nature of my work, didn't allow me to talk about the details of my day over coffee with friends and even if I could nobody would fully understand unless they were there.  The high emotion, uncertain schedule,  long hours and being on call were taking their toll.   Mr. T knew exactly what I was experiencing.  He worked as a trauma nurse  at a major hospital in St. Louis.  Sometimes words aren't enough he would tell me, when that was all he and I had it was ironic that he would say that, but I knew exactly what he meant.  If only, we didn't live a million miles apart.  He would describe how at the end of an extremely stressful shift, where he did not always have control, where sometimes God decided the out come no matter how hard him and his team would try, he would need to have a scene where he could release his frustration and he could control the outcome.  I understood that raw emotion, but I wanted to hand the control over to someone else, to give it up.  There were times when my emotions were tied up in such tight knots within me that I didn't know how to release the negativity from my body, let alone my brain.  It was not uncommon for my boss to find me smoking behind the dumpster, out back, crying.  He would look at me and shake his head and say "Suck it up butter cup"  or no crying on the job princess.  I tried to explain that my shedding a few tears, on my own, away from everyone, was healthier than finding comfort at the bottom of a bottle.  The message was clear, I need to keep my feelings in check. 

 It's one thing to be physically tired; one can sleep and rejuvenate.  When you are mentally and emotionally exhausted, you can't turn your brain off at night.  Physical pain would be a great distraction and would be symbolic of all that I was dealing with, but I didn't like pain, but I wanted pain, but I didn't trust anyone to inflict pain on me, and I didn't trust anyone enough to go through the release of and the letting go of some pretty strong, twisted and messed up shit.  I wanted the bruises and the welts as evidence of what my heart was feeling.  I wanted a Dom to beat me through my tears, to make me scream and cry and not be a typical man and try and wipe my tears away rather be the one inflicting the pain on me, in turn being the one releasing the pain from me.  I never really allowed that to happen, I never found a Dom I could submit to like that so I have always held that back, stuffed it down and kept it for myself.  Maybe I was saving my tears for someone worthy.

At the beginning of our first year, a college professor told us he believed that after one of our major projects, a certain number of students would drop out, of those remaining; 50% of us would make it to graduation and of those, only 50% would remain in our chosen industry five years after school.  I didn't believe I fell into those stats of his.  In the end, I made it to 5 years, when I walked away. 
I no longer have the desire to experience pain, in the way that I wanted to back then, my pain tolerance wasn't never that high and it is probably even lower now.  However I do still get turned on by bruises and welts, I just don't know if I have the ability to handle what it would take to have bruises and welts to call my own. 

The reality of this new world

I walked away from Eric knowing that what I wanted was much more than a good, hard core, fuck, yet I knew I could not follow in Paula’s footsteps. There was no way I could serve a Dom and not get some lovin’. If I was confusing and contradicting myself then how would anyone else be able to understand me? One thing I did know for sure, what that BDSM was more than just rough, kinky sex, but I also knew that it was very much apart of my sexuality.

I have always had strong opinions about what I felt was right or wrong for me in any given situation, however I still felt I was open minded enough to not judge others for living their lives according to what was right or wrong for them. Here I was without any clear opinion of what in this lifestyle worked for me and what didn’t and I found I was becoming hyper judgemental. I knew I was no better or worse than anyone else, so where was this coming from? It was probably a defence mechanism to some degree, a way for me to distance myself and evaluate what was going on. I had also learnt that despite the assumption that those within this lifestyle we’re opened minded, consenting, free thinking adults, a large number, judged a girl on her on whether she identified as a sub or a slave and once that was established, people would debate that she was too this or that to be sub or slave. It was all very confusing and made me more than a little defensive. This may explain why some girls come across as a total bitch, because she is so tired of having to define herself for everyone; Dom and sub alike.

As open minded as I wanted to be, I observed some around me that were so open minded I think maybe their brains fell out. I met girls who would allow a Dom do whatever he wished, and when they were done with the girl, who never once objected during the scene, she bad mouths the Dom to the whole community; labelling him dangerous. When asked what she did to stop the scene she says she wanted to be a good submissive. WTF!?!, so then you wanted to be a good girl, but upon further reflection, you realise that you don’t like what went down, and though he did not lie to you, mislead you, or maybe he did, you take no responsibility and now you don’t care about being a good submissive and want to discredit this person!?! I saw a lot of this going on and being someone who may like heated, intelligent debates and discussions, but also a girl who shies away from conflict and anger I would try and keep my distance from all parties involved in such circumstances, whether they were the victim or the instigator. Every once in awhile I would befriend someone and all of a sudden I would find myself in the middle of a war zone, in a battle that I had no desire to be in, having to pick sides, when I often felt that neither party was right. OMG, so much drama, although some may consider me royalty, I’m more a princess than a drama queen. Who knows maybe I was just a royal pain in the ass.

Everyone had their own opinions and what made a good Dom or sub, how a scene should take place, what made a good or bad toy. As a "newbie" on the scene, I had many offers of training, mentorship, protection, however, those making such offers could seldom tell me what would be accomplished by training, how I would be better from their mentorship or what I needed to be protected from. I did have the desire to experience some "play" even if I didn't feel trusting, or vulnerable enough to fully submit to a casual play partner. I wanted that deep connection that people spoke about, but I seldom saw. It was the paradox I saw of people speaking of how much deeper being collared was than being married, yet I knew financially a man needed to commit more to a diamond than a piece of leather and if that piece of leather meant so much, why were people putting on and taking off collars like they were changing their underwear. Don't get me wrong I have met some amazing people who do have that connection, their collar truly symbolises a very deep and genuine connection, it was rare to see and it was seldom spoken about. So many in this lifestyle were mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually damaged, and unhealthy. I don't say this in judgement it was simply what I was observing. A large majority of submissive women are overweight, many of those who opened up to me had experienced childhood sexual abuse, as grown women some had been raped. Some shared that they suffered from depression, were dealing with other mental health issues and others struggled with addictions. Although some were highly educated and had powerful jobs,most lived a blue collar life, with a mid to lower income. The Doms I was attracting often didn't drive, because they couldn't afford a car or had lost their license due to a DUI.  I noticed I was being pulled down with others,  there are always exceptions and although I fell into some of my own stereotypes; over time I came to realise that everyone had a choice with how they conduct their life and how they fit BDSM into their lifestyle.

“Each of us has the right and the responsibility to asses the road which lie ahead and those over which we have traveled, and if the feature road looms ominous or unpromising, and the road back uninviting-inviting, then we need to gather our resolve and carrying only the necessary baggage, step off that road into another direction. If the new choice is also unpalatable, without embarrassment, we must be ready to change that one as well.” ~ Maya Angelou

Meeting real people in the world of BDSM

After college I moved back home.  Back in the comfort of my own city, with my studies behind me I was ready to meet some real people. My chosen career path was extraordinarily conservative, and it was imperative that I be cautious, but I needed to step away from the computer and into the real world.  I had become a regular in one of the local chatrooms and I started to get to know some of the other regulars of the room.
I knew the first person I wanted to meet would be a female, submissive.  One of the regular chatters, who I will call Paula; agreed to meet with me.  We decided to meet in the lounge of a popular restaurant.  How would I recognise her?  She would be wearing a black with white polka dot dress, (since her Dom preferred her not to wear pants).  Once our plans were set, she contacts me and asks if I would mind if her Dom; John,  joined us.  I did mind.  I wasn't ready to meet any Doms, but the plans were already in place and it would be rude of me to object.  So I set aside my fears, and agreed to meet with both of them.  I wore, a denim skirt that was just above my knees, a pair of wedge sandals, a yellow T-shirt.  My make-up was subtle, and my hair was curly.  Like myself she was cute and plump but she was plain.  She had her hair held back off of her face with a barrette, she wore no make-up and her dress looked to be something that I would find in my aunt's closet.  There was something about her that screamed "small town".  Her Dom, was exactly what I expect a Dom to be.  He was tall, toweringly tall, he was enormously large.  His eyes sparkled and his warm smile was surrounded by his well groomed goatee.  He wore jeans and a white T-shirt.  I was instantly more drawn to him than I was to her.  There was an openness to him, where she was reserved and stand-offish.  I extended my hand and he instead embraced me in a big bear hug.  Once his huge arms released me, she hugged me and we took our seats at a booth, them on one side, and me on the other.   She was divorced, had moved to the city from a small town for work.  She lived, with a vanilla, female roommate.  He was married and entered the lifestyle as a sub, but had decided to explore his Dom side, with the blessing of his Domme wife, whom had her own slave.....say what????  It was allot for my brain to grasp.  Despite the fact that the situation seemed more than just a little fucked up, they were nice people and I felt comfortable with them.
I shared some of my desires and inexperience.  For me this lifestyle was very much about sex, but I could tell that was not the motivation for this couple and something told me that sharing that side of my journey was a bad idea.  I had not seen a flogger, a crop, a paddle or a whip.  They offered to show me some of these tools and how they were used, so I followed them back to her place.  Her place was clean, and tidy with simple furnishings.  I had made it clear; I did not want any of the items used on me, so he demonstrated different "toys" on her. 
Who knew that one would need so many play things, all similar but slightly different from the others.  Some made of leather or suede, others she made herself out of rope, while the paddles and canes were made of wood.  Some "toys" gave a thud and others had bite.  He knew how to get her to moan and sigh, he also knew how to make her scream and squirm.  He respectfully let me feel the strikes of each on my open palm.  All of this was fine, but I still didn't quiet understand how any of these tools could replace a good, hard core fucking; something this Dom and sub, said that they did not do because he was married.  As I watched him flog her, it did intrigue me but I still thought a good flogging would best be finished off with a good fucking. 
Once the demonstration was over; her and I exchanged pleasantries and he walked me to my car.  He embraced me once again and gave me a soft kiss.  He opened my car door and told me to keep in touch.  Driving home, my mind swirled around all that they shared, what I observed and what I was reading between the lines.  She wanted more from him, but didn't want to admit it to herself and though she said she was ok with him being married and not being penetrated by him, she clearly didn't want to share and she needed some cock.  He was having fun and though he seemed respectful of the boundaries set in his marriage, he turned a blind eye to his sub's jealousy and maybe even relished in it.  He may love his wife, but he did not love his sub and I questioned how long each of these tangled relationships would last.  So I wasn't able to ask my one main question; "What's wrong with a good hard fucking"  besides telling me that BDSM is more than sex.  This coming from people who chose to be in relationships built on rocky foundations, of half truths and rules that I had a hard time understanding.  I was here to learn and needed to keep my judgements to myself. 

Recent Shopping Trip

One of my favorite past times is shopping.  I love finding unique items for our home, sexy and practical purchases for myself and my Master.  I recently found some great candle holders that I am hoping can go into a "play" room, once we move into our house in the Spring.  I also purchased a fun pair of boots and a sexy pair of shoes.