Our Story So Far (Part 1)

“Baby when you got a secret love, every little touch is not enough, Every little moment we're apart is pain to me.” – Bee Gees "Secret Love"

“You’ll never know ‘til you reach the top, if it was worth the uphill climb.” – Avenue Q “Fine, Fine Line”

Well, it looks like it’s biography time again.  And since you all (I think) really enjoyed the story of my first submissive and how I got started in BDSM, I hope that you will all enjoy this newest tale.  However, this one is ever so slightly different, in that it’s actually not got an ending.  Not yet.  One day, it will, and it may have a happy one, or maybe it won’t, but rest assured, either way, it will be put it on here for you to read, enjoy, sympathise over and whatever else you care to glean from it.

Also, another huge difference will be that it’s not JUST me writing this story.  Becca will be joining me and helping me with her comments and embellishments.  You see text in pink?  That’s her talking.  Say hello, babe.  (Hello!)

So, once again I will change names to protect those in my story, because it’s only fair.  Except Becca.  Her name is real.  She is happy and proud to be named as this is OUR story; not just mine.

In early February of 2016, I was invited to a Facebook group that was invite only, and devoted to fans of (shall we say) ‘dubious’ humour.  Sick jokes, offensive memes, etc.  My friend Josie had known my sense of humour was rather on the dark side, so invited me in.  She was right to do so, as there were some cracking things there, none of which I can share with you because, well, what happens there, stays on there – until people started getting banned for posting nudity, etc. 

One day I saw a new girl posting, her name was Becca, and although she was pretty, she was also in Spain and engaged.  Shame, but there you go.  Her posts were very welcome, and she was clearly VERY popular with the males of the group (because these guys were clearly of the opinion that girls that post rude jokes and memes MUST be up for a fuck).  I could tell she was better than that, and I just enjoyed her postings.  (To be fair, I honestly had no clue what I was doing or what I was supposed to do in the group, but after scrolling a while I realized that it didn’t matter, as long as I found it funny, someone else probably would too)

In late February, one of the regulars – and I don’t remember who – decided it would be a laugh to post risqué photos of themselves in a bid to persuade the females in the group to do likewise.  It worked too.  Josie did it, other girls did it, but not Becca.

Not yet anyway.

In early March, one morning, she decided to post two photos of her body (clothed but suggestive) one in what looked like a nightie (actually, it was lingerie, I was wearing a thong… I’d never sleep in that… Rather be naked), showing her gorgeous bum and another showing cleavage, but nothing else.  She said, at the time, that she was feeling low and in need of an ego boost, which she got in spades.  Plenty of compliments, plenty of innuendos and she enjoyed the attention (I’ll always remember, in a completely shallow and narcissistic way, how seeing the first comment to those pictures, “Christ!” made me feel).  However, one ‘man’ (using the term loosely) decided to ask her if she felt that whoreing herself made her feel good about herself.  She had a brief argument with him, and decided to take the photos off the group.

However, it was too late.  This ‘man’ has stolen the pics, and put them on his wall for HIS friends and followers to see, and asked them how they felt about a woman displaying herself for an ego boost.  What a cunt.  (Bearing in mind that he only ever screenshot his comments, not any of my retorts or his agreement to them… he attempted to make himself out to be the nice guy in shining critical armour to his Facebook friends)

Obviously he was told by mutual friends to take the pics off his profile and that he was completely out of order by putting them up in the first place.  He was also booted from the group for breaking the rule stating that what happens in there, stays in there.  (Yes, I know there’s a certain amount of irony in that the start of my story is in there too and yet, here I am.  Number of fucks given: 0)  (His page and what he had done was also screenshot and posted in the private group so all the other members could see what had happened and to warn the ladies to be careful what they post of themselves)

Becca was distraught.  She felt betrayed, humiliated, abused, victimised.  Why were her photos stolen and posted elsewhere, when she was far from the only woman that posted?  I watched her (justifiably) threaten to quit the group (I also suffered my first “Slut Shaming” since high school, with many of the women in the group, amongst them, Josie and another that had posted way more suggestive pictures than mine, begging the group admins to give me the boot for calling unwanted attention to the private page). I decided to quickly send her a note via Facebook messenger, giving her my support and apologising for the actions of that other bastard.

Turns out it was the best thing I could have ever done.

You know how everyone can remember where they were when Kennedy got shot, or when Diana died, or when 9/11 happened?  Well I can remember exactly where I was the first time Becca replied to me.  I was stood near a Pret a Manger on Great Newport Street, in London.  Maybe I’ll take her there one day…  (I sadly don’t recall where I was, I was just feeling too sick about the whole thing to really pay attention to anything. I do recall how sweet He was. How He made me smile. How it felt to know that someone from the group was not just messaging me to get more pics… He was genuine and really cared that I was OK)

We swapped messages all day.  Some small talk, she appreciated my message, thanking me for the support.  We did some very gentle flirting (It seems gentle to me now, but then, I thought it was quite outrageous) and my BDSM version of gaydar took over.  There was something very subtly submissive about the way she spoke. (I still, genuinely have no idea what He’s on about or how He detected it… I’m just impressed that it worked over I.M)   Before you ask, no I can’t quantify it, it only makes sense in my head…

I took a chance and confessed my lifestyle choice – and awaited the ‘oh that’s nice, but I’m not really into that, but thanks for the chat, bye!’

But it didn’t come.

Instead I got the confession that submission was something she had felt for a long time but had not been with anyone that she felt able to explore with.  Her fiancé Tony was very vanilla and although he attempted certain acts like spitting, choking, spanking, his heart was never in it.  She was frustrated but had come to accept that this was it, it would never get any better.  (At this point in my life, I had just recently, VERY recently been humiliated by Tony. I had explained to him what I was, who I was. I had asked him, almost begged him to explore a D/s relationship with me. It was one of the hardest things I have had to do, opening myself up like that to someone. Tony just laughed in my face and asked me to not bring it up again. I immediately confided in Kevin… There was just something about Him that I knew I could trust)

Now, at this point, I must make it clear: I am not and have never been one to go for people who are not single.  I usually steer clear of that minefield.  But this time, for Becca, something urged me to stay, to see where it went.

So I did.  We flirted more, we swapped more intimate details, more history…  And continued to do this for a few days (over 2000 messages in the first TWO days!).  We swapped vanilla pics, phone numbers, stories and we promised each other that it was never going to be anything more than ‘fun’.  I wasn’t looking for a relationship, she was in one and besides, she never falls in love, not ever.  So fun or ‘training’ would be the aim.

She requested that I train her in the submissive arts and my heart leapt.  How could I refuse?  She’s stunning and submissive, eager to learn.  I also knew that other ‘alleged’ Doms were sniffing around her, from the FB group – hello Piggy Eyes, if you ever read this – so I thought that by taking her as my trainee sub, I’d also be protecting her.  Anything to justify the relationship!  (I barely understood what BDSM meant, let alone being someone’s submissive. I asked sooooo many questions, sometimes the same ones just differently worded, to try to grasp what I had researched, if what I had learned was factual. I wanted to impress Him, something I’ve never wanted to do with anyone else)

It wasn’t easy to start with.  Becca had other admirers and haters both of whom tried to warn us off each other.  Some guy called Daryl was PMing her begging for a relationship, telling her I was bad news, and how little I knew about her compared to how much he knew and how much he cared.  He stopped talking to her the moment he realised she didn’t live in the UK.  Shallow much?  Also Josie was warning me that Becca was only using me as a bit of fun, to distract her from her life.  In her words, “there’s no way she’ll give up her cushty life in Spain to get with someone she met on Facebook.”  Actually, that was the biggest boost I could have had – I now needed to prove Josie wrong.

Becca and I spoke as often as we could, as work and private lives would allow.  The more we spoke, the more I liked her.  The more we spoke, the more she relaxed.  She started calling me ‘Sir’, we masturbated together, phone sex…  She eventually grew brave enough to spoil me with a topless photo (which I still have - and I look absolutely terrified in) and the relationship grew deeper.

She even took a recording of a sex session between Tony and herself, for me to listen to.  I told her I played it and enjoyed it.  What I didn’t tell her was how fucking jealous it made me.  And I hate feeling jealous, it’s a destructive emotion and a sure sign that deeper emotions are now in play.

Yeah, feelings.  I had them, and I was falling fast.  But struggling not to.  We had already agreed that if we had feelings, that we’d call it a day, and part as friends.  But I couldn’t bring myself to end things, yet.  It was too good.  It felt ‘right’.  So I sucked it up and carried on, knowing those feelings would never be reciprocated.  (He told me that if I was falling in love with Him, to please tell Him, to be honest, and I requested the same. We had gone into this with the agreement that it would be no more than fun… But I was scared to admit that I was feeling something for Him. I knew I was because the idea of telling Him goodbye hurt and I knew I couldn’t bring myself to do it. So I lied, to Him and to myself. Told Him I wasn’t feeling anything other than desire. He seemed to believe me, which made it easier to lie to myself about it)

More talking, more revelations…  Hard limits, soft limits, fantasies, her bisexuality, her lust for her colleague Maya… Ah yes, Maya.  The gorgeous 21 year old co-worker.  (Turned out that she was also bi, also dabbled in BDSM and really wanted to take Becca to London for a weekend, so she could experience the Torture Garden.  But Maya will feature more later…)  (Ahhhhh… Maya… The first woman to catch my eye in over 10 years… almost obsessively)

Thanks to the ‘magic’ of Skype, we video called each other as much as we could.  It was very noticeable that over the course of the days and weeks that we’d been chatting, that she was relaxing, becoming more comfortable in her submission, slowly coming out of her shell.  She once said to me “I won’t ever get naked, I don’t even like doing it for Tony!” and obviously, I believed her, whilst hoping I could get her to change her mind (I even hated walking past the mirror in the bathroom on the way to the shower… All I saw was the bad, never trying to find the good. I would even wake up if I accidently brushed my hand over my own stomach. I couldn’t understand how anyone could find me attractive).  She became brave enough to expose her breasts on camera (and they are spectacular, trust me) in addition to photographing them (Another part of me that I was terribly self-conscious about… I didn’t like them, I didn’t find them pretty. I thought them disproportioned and in need of reconstruction).  We could even masturbate together, watching each other, telling each other how attracted to each other we were.  Becca showed more, as did I (Showing more of myself to Him was one of the most nerve wracking things I have ever done. I was terrified of rejection, of Him not finding me attractive once He saw the parts of myself that I loathed. I took on a “fuck it” attitude and bared way more than I felt comfortable with… And he didn’t run! I genuinely felt sexy for the first time in a long time).

In hindsight, what happened next was really fucking obvious.  I had fallen in love with Becca.  However, I knew (or rather, I believed) that confessing this would be the end of ‘us’.  We had promised each other that it was friends only, just harmless fun.  But the more we talked, the more I found out about Becca, her life, her past, her family, the more I wanted to be with her.  To be the man she deserved, the Dom she wanted and future she never thought possible.  But I did not dare tell her.  How could I?

And it burned inside me.  Every single time we spoke or texted, I wanted to tell her “I love you” but knew it would scare her away.  Besides, it sounded crazy.  Falling in love with someone you had never met, who was already engaged, in a foreign country, with no means or apparent desire to be anywhere else.  Yet, the burning got worse.  (I was terrified at this point… I was lying to myself, lying to Him, telling him that I was slightly “flying”, when in reality I was freefalling fast and the ground was close… I could feel the imminent “splat” and really didn’t know what to do other than keep going).

Again, I can remember the exact place I was when I dropped my guard and told Becca the truth.  It was on a DLR train, pulling into Shadwell Station.  I remember telling her I needed to confess something, which obviously got her curiosity stoked and then texted her “I love you”.   I put my phone in my pocket, my heart was racing like never before and I awaited the goodbye text.  Surely this would be it.

But once more, it didn’t come.  I got a text asking if I wanted things to end (hell no) and that she needed time to think about what had happened. (“FUCK!... FUCK!... FUCK!... WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?!?!?!?! GAHHHHH!!!!” Was what was going through my mind when I read His message… We had agreed that it wouldn’t come to this, that we wouldn’t fall in love. I was terrified He’d walk away, and when He said he wouldn’t I was relieved and also worried… What the hell was I going to do?)

I pride myself on being an excellent judge of character, only rarely being proven wrong or disappointed in people but something told me that Becca felt the same as me, but could not and would not say so because of Tony.  (I hinted on both my Instagram and the private group that I was in love with Him, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit it… Say those three words… Not yet anyway.  The following picture expresses my feelings at the time perfectly).

We carried on talking, and I didn’t mention my love for Becca, except when she spoke about it.  I was fine with that, my feelings were out and proud, I’d put my heart on my sleeve and I was prepared and expecting it to be ripped off.  But then, out of the blue, Becca asked me to call her, which I did (I was at work and had to find somewhere quiet-ish to do so) and she simply said “I’m only saying this once, so make the most of it because I won’t be saying it again.  I love you.”  (Barely a month after we had started talking and I decided I had to tell Him, be honest with myself and with Him. It was a relief to finally say it…)

I could have cried.  I didn’t, because I was at work but damn.  It was perfect.  Well, not quite perfect, I wanted to hear Becca say those words without being drowned out by the machinery and workers in the warehouse.  And she did.  She changed her mind slightly and said that on that specific day, she will say it as much as she or I liked but after that it would never be mentioned again. 

That lasted a day.

Fuck it, we had fallen in love and I didn’t care.  I had found my missing piece.  Someone that ticked pretty much all my boxes (OK, so she’s a natural blonde but genuinely didn’t care by then) and yes, it was going to end in heartache but it just felt right…  (I was scared of hurting Sir. I could deal with it, I’m used to heartache and being left, but the very idea of hurting Him almost killed me. I loved Him too much and I knew I needed to walk away, for His sake… I just couldn’t. I was selfish. It felt too right)

Becca and I had grown so deeply attached to each other, and it was far from just sexual.  Just weird coincidences like a joint love of marmite, mushy peas, pigging out sessions, pickled eggs…  We even began finishing each other’s sentences, knowing how the other thinks, and feels.  The relationship became almost symbiotic, which is frankly bizarre as we still had not met but somehow, some way, we had meshed so tightly that distance was irrelevant.  (I could hardly wait to get to work… it meant I could see Sir, talk to Him, hear His voice and look into His eyes, granted it was through a computer screen, but it was almost perfect. I was eager to continue training, to make Him proud)

Of course, there were complications.  The obvious ones being that if we wanted to meet (and we do/did) then it would involve one of us spending money and time to get to the other.  If it was me, I would need to time it perfectly, as there was no way Becca would find the time to be away from Tony as much as she wanted.  If she came here, would she be able to leave Tony at home or would he insist on accompanying her?

Enter Maya......

(TO BE CONTINUED!)

FinDom Culture - Are you fucking mad??

So, I love this lifestyle. It's so free-thinking, so open and frankly, unless the law is broken, then anything goes. Obviously there are some kinks I don't 'get', like crush fetishes, some I get but have no interest in, like masochism.

And then there's the batshit crazy ones like "Bug Chasing" (sleeping with people in order to catch diseases), vorarephilia (cannibalism) and apotemnophilia (google it). I know the whole YKINMKBYKIOK thing but... Fuck me.

There is one fetish that I've seen a lot on Fetlife, and it troubles me a lot. Financial Domination (or FinDom, as it has unsurprisingly been abbreviated to) is the act of having a submissive that is forced to supply money or gifts to their Dominant or even giving their Dominant control over their finances (such as credit cards, bank accounts, etc).

A quick peruse around Fetlife will lead to one question. Why is it only submissive men that enjoy FinDom?  Oh yes, of course. BECAUSE MEN ARE INHERENTLY FUCKING STUPID.

Women are smart enough to realise that giving their Dominant access to their money is a foolish, irresponsible thing to do. Buying your Dominant a present, is fine, as it is in reverse. But to have a Dominant DEMAND it, that stinks.

You cannot buy affection. FinDom is barely disguised prostitution, and while I have no problems with prostitution, I do have a problem with having it dressed up as a legitimate kink.

Domination/submission is meant to be a mutually fulfilling relationship but if it were, there would not be a gender imbalance. But there is.

I’m not seeking to stop it, if you’re a ‘paypig’ and it makes you happy, then so be it. I just think you’re stupid and you need to realise you’re not submissive, you just enjoy being taken for a damn ride.

Atheism and BDSM

So yes, I’m an atheist. I don’t believe in God. I don’t believe in ANY form of higher power, or that humanity was created by a celestial being.

(Oh, and if you’re religious, then I’m not saying you don’t have the right to worship a deity or whatever. You have every right to be wrong.)

I was born and raised a Christian (Roman Catholic) and I will admit, I was – for a long time – very prejudicial in my views. Gays? Vile people. Other religions? They’re gonna burn in HELL! Looking back, I do feel deeply ashamed of how close-minded I was.

So what made me become more enlightened, accepting and open-minded?

BDSM.

Well, partly. That, and a healthy fucking dose of common sense.

Anytime someone outside of kink asks me about BDSM and my role, one of the first things they say is “Isn’t that degrading to women?” and of course I reply that it’s not. After all, reverse the roles and you’ll rarely be asked if it’s degrading to men. The main point is, as all you kinky fuckers know, it’s all down to consent. To deny a submissive her desire to be submissive, and all it entails because of her gender is precisely the sort of misogyny that the non-kinkster would happily accuse me of enabling.

Once you realise that, despite the roles of Dominant and submissive (or the many derivatives thereof), the TRUE power lies with the submissive, it all suddenly makes sense. However, that’s a blog for another time.

It’s the preconceived notions and, yes, prejudices from people outside the BDSM life that really made me question MY prejudices.

If they had NO right to judge me on my kinks, my interests, then who am I to judge others? Why should I be anti-homosexuals or transsexuals? Why is their choice of lifestyle any different to mine? The more I thought about it, the more I realised how hypocritical I was. And, as cliché as it sounds, it really was like having a lightbulb switched on in my head.

Thereafter, of course, I started thinking why I had become so prejudiced and I concluded it was my upbringing. Not my parents as such, they were always pretty cool and if they had any prejudices, they kept them pretty well hidden (and if they were kinksters too, they kept that especially well hidden…) No, it was the fact that I was raised as a Catholic, with Catholic teachings, with Christian friends. Surrounded with that dogma shaped my thinking, shamefully. Luckily, being in the UK, we weren’t taught Creationism as a science (sorry, America, but that’s just stupid, right there!) so I was given a head-start in my atheistic musings.

Science always wins over religion. Always. Please, I implore you, go to YouTube, and listen to the likes of Bill Nye or Neil deGrasse Tyson. Listen to what they say about the world, how it works, where it came from. Tell me it doesn’t compel you to want to learn more.

If there’s something that science hasn’t got an answer for, that doesn’t mean ‘God did it.’ It just means that science hasn’t discovered it yet. But chances are, it will. WAsn’t that long ago that everyone on Earth knew for sure that the planet was flat. Who knows what we’ll know in 50 years’ time, compared to today?

Anyway, got mildly side-tracked there. Do I think BDSM practitioners would be better off without religion? Absolutely, but then I think everyone would be. However, to be true to the spirit and ethos of BDSM, means not having the sort of prejudices that poison the mind; the type of poison that only religion can inflict. Free your minds from irrelevant teachings that are hundreds of years out of date and have NO bearing on the world we live in today.

And don’t get me fucking started on astrologers and psychics.

VIsiting Rights (Part 1) - Erotica

Ginnie sat in Daddy’s chair. He had given her strict instructions when he left for work that morning:

“Princess, when you come home this afternoon, I want the front room spotless, and you sitting in my seat at 6pm prompt. Do not disappoint me.
All my love,
Daddy”

The vacuuming had been done, the dusting had been done and everything was in the proper place. She looked at the room and felt the pride swell inside her. She knew Daddy was not overly fussy about chores, and he helped out, but when he told her to do something, she did it. It excited her when Daddy was commanding; it meant he was planning something special.

The time was crawling. She was getting more and more nervous as the minutes passed. She knew he’d be on time, Daddy was never late.

6pm and no Daddy. She felt a twinge of disappointment and was about to get up when she heard a key at the door. Her heart started beating rapidly, she clasped her knees and bit her lip.

“Princess? Are you ready?” he called out. Before she answered, he had appeared in the doorway.

“Yes Daddy,” she replied politely.

He sat on the sofa, nearest to where she sat.  “Babygirl, you know how we spoke about how Daddy loves you very much and wants to treat you, spoil you and look after you?” She nodded. “And I said how one thing Daddy couldn’t give you was the milk a little girl needs from Mummy’s breasts?” She nodded quickly, gripping her knees harder. The floorboards in the hallway creaked, the unmistakeable sound of someone else standing out of sight.

“Well, Daddy has a special surprise for you. Come here, Mummy!” Ginnie turned her head to the doorway, and watched as a woman appeared, dressed in a smart coat and red silk scarf. She was gorgeous. Ginnie looked her up and down, and suddenly felt the familiar feeling of warmth between her legs. The woman sat next to Daddy, unbuttoning her coat. It was then Ginnie noticed her breasts, bulging in a low cut dress. She felt embarrassed, almost inadequate as she remembered her modest B-cup breasts. Daddy had always said how much he loved them but looking at this woman’s chest, she couldn’t help but think.

“Hello Ginnie” the woman said. “Your Daddy has told me all about you, and I had to meet you to see for myself. And he’s right! You are a stunning little girl.”

Ginnie’s face began feeling warm, as the blood rose into her cheeks. “Th… Thank you, um, Mummy?” She glanced as Daddy, who was smiling at his clever girl.

“Yes, darling. You can call me Mummy” she said as she stood up, and removed her coat and scarf. Ginnie saw how her long, black hair fell down her back, the dress was a dark blue and clung to her full, voluptuous figure. Ginnie could not help but wonder what was under that dress.
Daddy stood up too. “My babygirl needs the nourishing milk from Mummy’s boobs, would you be able to oblige, Mummy?”

Ginnie watched as the two grown-ups smiled at each other.

“Oh yes, Daddy. I think she’ll love anything I can give her” As she spoke, her hands began caressing her breasts.

“Come princess,” said Daddy, “let’s go and get you ready…” He held out his hand, which Ginnie meekly took, and he walked her into the bedroom.

The bed was immaculate, as always, the silky purple bedspread catching the sunlight from the window. Daddy walked over and closed the curtains, and turned on the bedside lamp.

“Get undressed, baby” he said. Ginnie was so nervous, she did not register what he said. “Sweetheart!” Daddy’s stern voice always made Ginnie both scared and excited. She looked at him, the stern look in his eyes made her legs week. “I said to get undressed, now.”

She began unbuttoning her blouse, looked at Mummy, who was standing next to Daddy, staring at her. She pulled down her fluffy pink shorts, and stood in her bra and knickers.

“Carry on, angel” said Daddy. She nervously reached behind and unhooked her bra. She slowly let the straps fall down her arms, and it fell to the floor. She crossed her arms, feeling the eyes of the grown-ups on her erect nipples.

Daddy walked over and stood in front of her. He pulled her arms from her chest, and placed them by her side. Mummy joined them, tracing her fingers through Ginnie’s long dark hair.

“Isn’t she just precious?” said Mummy. “I love these tits, they are so perky!” Ginnie felt Mummy’s warm hand cupping her left breast, gently caressing and stroking it. Daddy slid his thumbs down her hips, into her panties, and gently pushed them down her leg.

“Oh, look Daddy! She has no hair at all on her little girl parts, just as all little girls should!” Ginnie was breathing hard, acutely aware of the heat and moisture that was emanating between her legs
Daddy stroked her face, then kissed her on the lips. Mummy was still playing with her breast, and her hair. She was scared, apprehensive but ever so turned on. Daddy was in control and she trusted him completely. He picked her up in his big arms, and laid her on the bed. He kissed her firmly, while unbuttoning his shirt, then his trousers, allowing them to fall in a heap on the floor. Ginnie felt the bed dip, as Mummy lay next to her. She turned and saw Mummy completely naked, and smiling. Her breasts were so big, her nipples hard, and dark pink.

“Come and drink from Mummy, darling” Ginnie looked at Daddy, nervously, silently asking permission.

Daddy smiled. “Go ahead, baby, do it.” She turned back to Mummy and put her face against Mummy’s breast, which Mummy was squeezing gently. Ginnie opened her mouth and took the nipple in, sucking on it gently, slowly, gazing up into Mummy’s eyes. She felt Mummy put her arms around the back of her head, cradling her. Ginnie sucked harder.

She felt Daddy’s hand on her bare bottom, touching it all over, using his fingertips. She instinctively opened her legs as Daddy guided his hands between her legs. He caressed her, the way only her Daddy could, and she started sucking on Mummy’s breast quicker.

Daddy whispered in her ear, “You’re a hungry little one, aren’t you?” and continued masturbating her, gradually getting faster. She felt Mummy’s fingertips on her nipple, gently stroking and teasing it, feeling the surge of excitement each time Mummy let her fingernail touch.

Almost without warning, the orgasm arrived, catching Ginnie by surprise. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, feeling Daddy’s fingers touching and probing between her legs, feeling her breasts being played with by Mummy, and sucking on Mummy’s beautiful, big nipple. Ginnie’s body shuddered and convulsed in pleasure, as the orgasm went through her whole being.

“What a good little girl!” both Daddy and Mummy said in unison, looking at each other, grinning.
Ginnie relaxed on the bed, between them, trying to catch her breath. She saw Mummy and Daddy smiling at each other.

She had NO idea what was about to happen…

(To Be Continued....)

Grey Matters...

So, 50 Fifty Shades of Grey.

It's been a while since I've blogged. Totally my fault; a mixture of writers block, dead laptops, loss of passwords, and relationships has meant that I have severely neglected this place. However, a recent discussion regarding 50 Shades of Grey has kinda got my creative juices flowing again, and I thought it best to strike while the iron was hot.

What is it about the books that have made them SO popular? I mean, it's not like they're the first books involving kinky shenanigans. Hell, the Marquis de Sade was producing stories hundreds of years ago. Even more recently, the Story of O (1954) and the Sleeping Beauty Trilogy (mid-80s) have been out, just as examples. There are many, many more. Something in the books caught the mood of the world just at the right time, the zeitgeist, if you will...
The obvious (yet little known) reason could be the connection to the simply awful Twilight books. 50 Shades started out as harmless fan-fiction with Bella and Edward (even the writing of their names is embarrassing to me…) and it grew from there. Never discount how popular those god-awful books were. And those films!

I should, at this point, make it perfectly clear that I have NEVER read the 50 Shades books. Nor the Twilight books for that matter (because I have a penis). So take everything I say with copious pinches of salt. If you’ve never read them either, all power to you. You’ve not missed much. Apparently.
But anyway, I was asked, “What do you, as a Dom, think of the 50 Shades novels?”
So I got to thinking. Having only ever read snippets, and heard many testimonies, both in favour and against, what DO I think of them? I had many conflicting opinions...

In Favour
Well, the obvious one is that thanks to the books, BDSM is now more in the mainstream than it has ever been. Spanking, light bondage, etc has become almost acceptable, as it should be.
I've often regarded it as being similar to homosexuality in the 60s or 70s, where you know it exists but it's considered wrong. It’s shameful. You didn't dare exclaim you're gay or you get beaten, mocked or ignored. Now of course, if someone says they're gay, no-one bats an eyelid, and rightly so. It’s no-one else’s business but theirs. If you don’t like or agree with homosexuality, don’t be a homosexual. Let them be what they want to be, and you be whatever you want. If only the same courtesy could be extended to those of us involved with BDSM.
You’re gay? Great!
You like to be chained up or whipping your sub? You’re a pervert, feel shame!
It really annoys me that we are really, the final ‘taboo’ to achieve acceptance, but I think it’ll happen. The 50 Shades books make the first step, the rest is up to us.

Against
The BDSM contained within the books is just such a badly researched and poorly
executed version that you have to wonder why anyone thought that even publishing the books was a worthwhile idea. The protagonists are miles far away from an authentic Dom/sub relationship and in many cases, it swings into just pure abuse, mental and physical. Grey is a control freak and not in the good way. No Dom would ever read his sub’s diary without permission, or just be an ignorant arsehole to her.
The mantra for BDSM, for those who don’t know, is “SSC”. Safe, Sane and
Consensual. From Wikipedia:
The principles are that BDSM activities should be:

• safe: attempts should be made to identify and prevent risks to health
• sane: activities should be undertaken in a sane and sensible frame of mind
• consensual: all activities should involve the full consent of all parties involved.

Note, though, that legal consent may not create a defence to criminal liability for any injuries caused and, for these purposes, non-physical injuries are included in the definition of grievous bodily harm in English law.
(Yes, I know RACK could also apply but let’s just run with SSC for now, yeah?)

Like I said earlier, I’ve not read the books, but a quick few seconds of research turns up the following:
1 – Grey uses a tracking device to find Ana via her mobile in the first few chapters of the book. He finds her drunk and takes her home, undressing her while she’s totally intoxicated and virtually unconscious. He then tells her he’ll be keeping tabs on her.... Seriously. This is not a Dom, this is a future abuser.
2 – Aftercare is a huge part of BDSM. A Dom will always ensure his sub is comforted if necessary, as BDSM scenes can be (as you can imagine) very intense, and the sub could feel highly emotional, scared, maybe even traumatised, especially when new to the lifestyle. So what does Grey do to Ana, after her first spanking session? He ups and leaves. Seriously. This is not a Dom, this is a disrespectful bully.
3 – Quite aside from the earlier examples (being stripped while barely conscious, tracing her mobile without permission, etc) there are so many examples of Grey completely dismissing or ignoring the need for Ana’s consent that it’s clear that he has NO concept of ‘consent’. Bear in mind, Ana was a virgin before she met Grey; she has no idea of anything sexual, other than what he’s shown her. She doesn’t even masturbate. Rather than discuss her desires, her issues, her limits, he issues her with a contract which he insists she signs, regardless of if she likes it or not. She’s barely been introduced to sex, let alone BDSM. He also, later on, blatantly ignores her usage of a safeword. Seriously.
The mere writing of all that has pissed me off. And I’ve not even mentioned the poor prose within the book. Some examples:
"I can almost hear his sphinx-like smile through the phone."
"I flush at the waywardness of my subconscious - she's doing her happy dance in a bright red hula skirt at the thought of being his."
"My very small inner goddess sways in a gentle victorious samba."
"I feel the colour in my cheeks rising again. I must be the colour of The Communist Manifesto."
"And from a very tiny, underused part of my brain - probably located at the base of my medulla oblongata near where my subconscious dwells - comes the thought: He's here to see you."
Utterly ridiculous. And this woman is now a multi-millionaire? Urgh.

So, in conclusion... It’s a wasted opportunity. Imagine if 50 Shades was written by someone that actually gave a damn about being accurate to the ethos and structures of BDSM? Imagine if all the millions of readers were learning the way a REAL Dom and a REAL sub interacted and behaved, rather than the ‘abusive stalker’ and ‘willing victim’ that the books portray.

In many ways it feels like we’ve taken one step forward, and two back. But the step forward is at least positive and must be followed up. But let’s hope the 50 Shades film doesn’t push things back further...