My #SinfulSunday image this week is all about three of my favourite pastimes – knitting, bondage, and lazing around in bed on a Sunday morning. If you’re a kinky knitter, you can find the pattern for these cuffs published on…
This is a kinky fantasy of mine – I’m not a 24/7 lifestyle sub and I’d hate to be under someone else’s control all of the time, so being a slave isn’t something I’d want to do for real. But pretend, part-time sexual slavery….oh yes….oh yes please…..
Tonight is the night. We’ve negotiated the scene carefully, establishing hard and soft limits, safewords and safecues. He’s curious and slightly nervous at the idea of power I’m putting into his hands. I’m hyper-aroused by the prospect, wondering how he will choose to exercise it.
He greets me at the front door with our usual kisses – both tender and hungry, wordlessly telling each other of our sheer joy in being reunited.
(Reposting from a piece I wrote on FetLife a while back)
My place is at the bottom in any given sexual dynamic. I do not switch. I am not any kind of Domme. That’s the bottom line for me.
I just don’t get off on wielding power. Giving orders doesn’t make me wet; receiving them does. Inflicting or threatening pain or control is tedious, asserting my will takes conscious effort, being in charge is both awkward and fatiguing. Oddly (but not uncommonly, I gather) this is very much at odds with my professional persona, in which I am the confident decision-maker and voice of authority. (It’s probably just as well that I don’t get sexual satisfaction from this, otherwise I’d probably spend all of my day wanking rather than working).
I’m pretty sure I actually saw this on the way home today. Even if my eyes deceived me at the time, it makes for a pretty damn hot fantasy. How lucky it just happens to be #MasturbationMonday!
So picture this. You’re on the bus on the way home from the station. It’s been a long and demanding day, so all you want to do is silence the whirling work-thoughts buzzing around your brain. You’ve been idly contemplating your favourite sexual fantasies on the journey so far, picking out which to play on your mind’s projector that evening when you settle naked onto your bed. You’re gazing out of the window, not really registering what you’re seeing as you picture scenes of dominance, restraints, floggings and hard fucking.
Then it happens. The bus jolts over a speed bump and you look up momentarily, to meet her eyes.
Let me tell you about why I like you to spank me…pinch my nipples…dig your fingers into tender parts of me…
…I want to be your slut. I want to exist to please you. Your moans, your dilated pupils, your hard cock – I want to be the cause; and see your unrestrained lust.
I feel powerful when I see how I make you feel, and so will I hand that power right back to you, to use me for your absolute pleasure. Your arousal, your approval are the nectar that feeds my deep hunger; they are what makes me wet and welcoming, spreads my limbs and wants you deep inside me