In the Numbers

1    little slut all to me

2    flushed cheeks that must be spanked

3    holes for me to fill

4    fingers that slip so easily in your wet cunt

5    words in “yes sir I am yours”

6    inches the blad to remove you clothes

7    orgasms at least I’ll get from you

8    lashes across your nipples after each orgasm you get

9    metres of rope to bind your limbs

10    minutes of standing naked on display

”Wicked

Him and Himself

He often refers to himself in the third person, talking as if to someone else “Why did you do that?”, “That was totally unacceptable.” or “Good man, welldone!”. This often raised an eyebrow or a more direct quizzicle response from those around him.

He could never understand why it’s strange to consider himself or his actions different to anyone else, why should the standards required by others be any different than for himself? Why could these thoughts not be expressed in the same way?

Reflecting on this perspective, flashes from his childhood appear, times of fun, joy, sadness and misbehaviour. These are almost always remembered like that of an out of body experience. The memories are not just of the feelings of emotion at the time or the expressions on the faces of those around him, but also of him as another person in the scene there in front of him.  

Many years later transcribing these musings into words, there are still questions as to how and when he is himself and not himself. Is it the observations of either of his Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, is he a little wierd or both. 

Even with hearing his words, experiencing his feelings and seeing his face, he still can’t truly tell. You the reader can you tell? What are your thoughts?

”Wicked

Apartheid – Lessons Learned

Disclosure: I am a white male and I recognise that I’ve been of a privileged class during different times of massive change the world has experienced over my lifetime. This post holds my own observations, experiences and musings. It’s my perspective.

I take continuous regulatory and management training in my professional capacity. A big topic recently has been that of inclusion and diversity. A standout realisation to me has been around the focus on and the treatment of minorities and the marginalised. Their needs and feelings matter most. If you are not defined by one of these groups, then you do not have the right to express your opinion in a way which is deemed oppressive or offensive by these groups.

Agree or not, this is the way it is. I don’t believe that much has changed throughout the ages. There have always been groups of people brought up in a bubble of privilege, they become aware of the existence of an oppressed community and over time, through a process, concede or give this community a voice, acceptance and legitimacy. After this is done, the privileged then realise that true change not only requires freedoms and opportunities given to the previously disadvantaged, but it requires a change within themselves. Herein lies the difficulty.

I grew up during the height of Apartheid South Africa. I had access to the best the state could offer me, the best education and hospitals in the world for example. Across the other side of town, another person the same age as me, born in the same country as me, did not have the same legal rights and opportunities that I had. Worst of all, they were considered less of a human and it was believed that they would squander the same rights bestowed upon me. It was said that it was in their best interests to be subservient to me. If they fought against this, they were being ungrateful and were required to be brought into line.

Fortunately the propaganda fed to me was exposed as the evil that it was, I was able to imagine myself in the shoes of that other person and how I would have fought under their circumstances. I discovered empathy for my fellow human and in 1990, my first time being allowed to vote,  I voted to give equal freedom to all South Africans. Four years later in 1994, every South African had the right to vote for their own political representative, regardless of ethnicity, political beliefs, religion and colour. 

In that moment the balance of power changed, there was an anticipation of civil war, following the pattern experienced in other ex-colonial African states. The previously persecuted, now with a voice and empowered could take their revenge. They could use their new position to exact their revenge, to persecute those that represented the oppression and abuse on them and the generations preceding them.

What prevented this in South Africa? It’s a subject of much study and opinion and perhaps a story not yet concluded. In my view, it was through the inspired leadership of forgiveness, inclusion and unity. The prisoner, extending a hand of forgiveness and friendship to their captor. This was accompanied by a national programme of reconciliation, The Truth and Reconciliation Commision. Here victims and perpetrators of gross human rights violations could share their experiences, sometimes in public hearings and where perpetrators could request amnesty from both civil and criminal prosecution. It provided a release for the hurt and the wrongdoing of the past to be recognised, acknowledged and most importantly dealt with and left in the past.

Unfortunately there are always those who fight to the bitter end, either resistant to change, looking for revenge or those with their own agenda.  It plays to the narrative of these to keep the fears, deep seated fear, hurt and pain of the past alive.

During a time of fundamental shift in society, there are those that gain a voice and those with a fear of losing theirs. It’s very hard for all to understand the actual trial and persecutions of the past versus the fear of perceived loss and recrimination in the future. These shifts and fears I see repeated over and over in many different contexts across history. The society and the time in which I live has shifted to accept that people can determine for themselves who and what they are and how they are to be addressed. Like any newly acquired voice, it does not come without its fears, challenges, polarisation of opinions.

I was asked recently if I thought I was racist? After some reflection, I admitted that yes I was. I could immediately recall times in my post Apartheid life where I found myself making racially biased decisions. Along with my answer to my daughter I said, “I hope that I catch myself when this happens and that I set out to treat every person in the same way I hope to be treated”. I am no saint, I have made poor choices in the past and there is all the probability that I will make more in the future. What I hope is that those around me will help me to consistently make better choices. What is not in the spirit of real long term change, are those with an agenda that continue to persecute from their righteous pillars of newly acquired privilege.

For me, I must be honest about the prejudices I’ve grown up with. Like an addict, if I can’t recognise and admit to the struggles I have, how can I overcome them. There are always going to be things that I will never relate to or even understand. Echoing words from a tweet I read recently, a little empathy cost’s nothing and I don’t need to understand someone, what the reason for their needs and desires are to accommodate them in the way they prefer and to treat them with respect.

I conclude that for me, on balance, the needs of minorities and of the marginalised trump the fears of the privileged. So when there is a change in the balance of privilege, those with newly acquired privilege and a voice now hold the mantle of responsibility for tolerance and inclusion.  To follow in the example of Nelson Mandela. 

Service

I have been reading a number of posts recently regarding service. I find it a rather interesting topic as the contextual meanings, desire and appreciation of service can differ wildly.

Coincidently I have been working on a work related project where the definition of service and client experience is being studied with a view to anticipate and prepare to exceed customer expectations.

From my perspective, there are three general contexts in which I give and receive service; goods and services, vanilla relationships and in D/s.

Although there are parallels across these, my thoughts are drawn to a topic I pick up on in the posts I read which is relating to anticipated service, performing an act of service that is not explicitly asked for.

In my vanilla relationships I could never quite be comfortable as sexual service as a reward for something nice I had done. In this context for me this is not service, it was a reward or payment in kind. Sexual service offered motivated by desire was something that I FAR rather would appreciate,  this I  consider more service like. In this context where my partner would anticipate something I desired and then offer me a service to meet this need, would be very well received.

Now service in terms of D/s, here again I feel different. Tasks performed by a sub in the context of service, if I were to give a simplistic opinion, would need to be something explicitly agreed and or requested. I would not like to receive as a surprise service, something I was not expecting. I would be open to discuss scenarios that come up, the terms and conditions of these. They would then be added to our agreement, then when offered, these would be in a manner agreed and not unexpected.

I have never been in a 24×7 D/s relationship, but could see that I could find a challenge switching context between strict D/s and not and especially in the context of service. 

It’s been fascinating reading how a supposedly well understood word like service has so many interpretations and expectations.

tellmeabout

Humiliation of a shared sub – Introductions (Part one)

The day arrived, her Dom and him had discussed a few guidelines, toys allowed; spanking with the paddle, the nipple clamps, vibrator and candles. No kissing and no penetration unless instructed by her Dom. Finally, her safeword and one for her Dom.

She and her Dom had met him through online mutuals, they chatted on various common interests and he struck up a rapport with them. One day the conversation led to a suggestion of him leading a play scene with her.  Although inside, his heart skipped a few beats at the thought, he was very cautious in coming across as too eager. 

He got the impression that this was something that had been brewing between her and her Dom. He was getting on well with them and was rather cautious of how this would turn out.

That evening he could hardly sleep, his mind replaying conversation and in his imagination the thought of a possible scene with her. After managing a few hours of sleep, he woke with an excitement and an arousal he had not felt in a while. He was not sure if anything was agreed, there was a lot of chat around humiliation and some related fantasies.  Was the offer from her Dom in jest?

He picked up his phone and scrolled through his notifications, looking out for any urgent overnight work matters that needed attention. There was one notification that caught his attention, it was a message from her, “What do you think?”. Were they waiting for an answer, she was waiting for an answer?

He had planned the scene, they would all meet for dinner and then travel together to a BDSM event that she and her Dom occasionally attended. He would have her to play with in one of the private areas under her Dom’s supervision. 

He arrived ten minutes after them at the restaurant as was planned, her and her Dom would have been seated and have had one drink. He walked directly over to the table, ignoring her, he greeted her Dom and extended his hand. Although he did a pretty good job to appear to ignore her, she was not something he could ignore.  His eyes for a brief moment met with hers, he had until now never seen her face. Her elegant posture, an aura of inner beauty, strength and wisdom exuded from her. Just that single glance from her, touched his soul.

“Get yourself together man, this is supposed to be a clean transaction, don’t connect with her” he repeated to himself several times. This was the first time he would have the sub of another Dom to play with. He was already a little nervous and did not need the added complexity and distraction of having a crush on her.

He took out a steel collar and a leather leash from his jacket and handed it to her Dom. Her Dom put the collar around her neck, attached the leash to the D ring. “My good man, she is yours for the evening and please name her as you seem fit. Let’s sit down and have another drink.” her Dom said and almost ceremonially handed him the leash.

There were three chairs equally spaced around the round table. The leash attached to her collar resting across the table to where he held the looped end in his hand, clearly visible to everyone in the restaurant.

She spotted the focus of her Dom shift to the sound of the opening door behind her, his body language immediately becoming more business like. Her heart immediately began beating faster. She was carrying both apprehension and excitement about tonight, things seem to progress really fast from the time she and her Dom casually spoke about giving her to someone else until now, with a Collar around her neck, literally in the possession of him for everyone to see. She could feel every pair of eyes in the restaurant trained on her. All conversation was surely about what a sexual deviant she was.

He was not a pretty boy, but the rugged steely determination about him she found very attractive. All these eyes on her, what would friends and colleagues think of her now? She was so far outside her comfort zone and felt frozen in her seat. Her discomfort turned into a heat traveling throughout her body and igniting her arousal. “Don’t, bite your lip” she kept telling herself while trying to refrain making eye contact with him.

“Look up at, let me see what I have, girl!” he said to her, his voice uncomfortably loud, still very aware of all the eyes focused on her. He felt drawn into her eyes, she seemed to absorb all of his gaze. “She is a special one and dangerous” he thought to himself as he studied her. “I’m expecting you to be a good little sub tonight”. Just as she started to reply, he turned to her Dom and cutting her off saying, “Sir, I am very pleased. I think she will do nicely”. 

The waiter came to the table with their drinks and lingered while looking at her and the leash lying across the table. “Anything you would like to ask?” he says to the waiter. “Oh no sir, please enjoy your drinks, erm, actually, would you like to order food?” the waiter replied. “This is all, can you bring us the bill.” her Dom instructs the waiter. With a quick nod the waiter took off at a rather quick pace.

She could feel the heat from her skin pulsing as she wished she could shrink on the spot and disappear out of sight. “Imagine the gossip” she thought, looking at the waiter disappearing behind the service doors. Every experience of untoward attention on her, she felt her arousal increase. She realised she was pressing hard into her seat trying to counteract her desire that was building. “Imagine leaving a wet patch on the seat or visible on my skirt as I walk out of …” 

Like he was reading her mind, he cut her off again mid thought, “I think it’s time we left.” he said as he got up taking up the slack on the leash.

I’m not finished with you yet

Introduction: This is the third and final part of a short story into a couples early exploration into BDSM. Read part two here, Surprise from exploring limits

It just dawns on me that I had my first in her vigina, fisting is not something which we have spoken about. Perhaps we should for next time. I carefully release my hand which triggers a few residual waves of pleasure that travel throughout her body. 

“I’m not done with you yet” I tell her. It seems words have escaped her as she groans and nods her head. 

I reach out for a nearby towel and wipe my hands. An evil grin spreads across my face. I remember the last time I did this. I tied a knot on the corner of the towl, giving it a little weight and the corner, a slither of fabric that replicates a whip. 

I first lightly dangle the corner and drag it over her tummy, I wonder if this will recall her memory of last time. I let the knot drop on her  pussy. Good she does remember, “Ah you bastard” I hear as she fights against the bond securing her hand together over her head. “Saveword?” I question her. She doesn’t reply.

I fling the towel against her, aiming for the ball of the towel to hit her labia and the corner to flick on her clit. It looks like she’s enjoying this. The third fling strikes its target and stings her clit, “Aah” I hear as her legs shake. 

A sadistic streak comes over me and my arousal ratchets up a notch or three. I increase the intensity of the towel flinging, the pitch of her moans getting higher. Changing pace again, I rub my thumb through the folds of her labia, long deliberate movements teasing her clit. She is still so wet. I need to prepare for my next move, deciding not to rub more lube onto my hands before I turn her around.

I move from between her legs to the side of her continuing the rubbing. I suddenly and quickly flip her over onto her stomach.  Give her a few moments to orientate herself then lifting her waist so that she is resting on her knees with her arse in the air.

“Show me your arse.” I command. “Open your legs”.  Clumsily she obeys. What an erotic site, her lips pink and swollen, a light glinting off a mixture of lube and her own juices. I get more lub and rub it into my hands, I stroke myself a few times.  “Is this pussy ready for my cock” I say as I kneel behind her and press it against her perineum.  She tries to move back toward me to receive my cock. I expect this and let my cock slips up against her anus and between her bum cheeks. We play this game a few times and I move back with a calculated open hand slap on a bum cheek. 

The clap echoes around the room as the outline of my hand forms on the bum. I rum her cheek and slap again, this time a little harder. I feel the heat developing under her skin as I rub it. I apply two slaps to her other bum cheek. They now both have a warm pink glow, I extend my rubbing to behind the back of her thighs and along the outside of her labia. Her pink arse looks so appealing, I’m overwhelmed by lust and need my own satisfaction. Like in autopilot, I take a condom from the bed stand, tear the packet and roll it over my cock. “Time to fuck you”, are the words that leave my mouth as I position and sink just the head in her open pussy. I thrust hard, hearing the slap against her bum. At first pausing between hard thrusts that move her whole body forward each time. Each time I thrust, I circle my thumb around her anus, very tempted to insert the tip of my forefinger.

But my need takes over, she is my fuck toy now, this is all about my pleasure, I pound her with an increasing rythym.   I close my eyes, enjoying all the sensations. A kaleidoscope of colours and shapes explode behind closed eyes, I feel the squirt of semen into the condom and my orgasm grips my balls emptying myself into her.

I quickly pull out and swiftly remove the condom and wipe my penis with the towel. My erection seems to remain, I can see she is near again to orgasm. “More” she moans, “please fuck me more Sir”.

I guide her body to turn back onto her back. “I am going to loosen you bonds and I want you to lean against the headboard. Leave the blindfold on” I say to her. She shifts herslef back and I place a couple more pillows behind her back. I position myself on my haunches in front of her with her legs over my thighs. I put on another condom, “this is for the both of us I say” as I lift myself towards her, sliding my cock inside her again pulling her hips towards me. 

We begin a rhythmic rocking, she is clearly enjoying this but I know it’s not going to be enough for her to orgasm. “Rub your clit” I command her “What?” she replied. “Don’t question just do” I say. I watch her hand find its target, I can’t help but notice how different she touches herself to how I would. 

I look at her watching her body as her orgasm builds, I reach over and slide off her blindfold. It takes a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the light and I keep my gaze fixed on hers. I increase the rocking as the pace of her hands increased. “Come for me” I say, which seems to push her over the edge, she tilts her head back and lets out a deep grown.  

I pull her towards me, we rollover and end up with her head on my chest. “Now we’re done” I say, as we laugh together.