KotW: Slave Training

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.

The Bottom Line

(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).

Window-shopping

Silhouette of woman against a townhouse window

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.