That moment; when all has been set up, but before the main course begins, the anticipation, the eagerness builds.
The rise of goose bumps, a wiggle to test the limits of arms bound at the wrist, ankles clasped by the firm hand of leather separated by iron, thighs kept at the exact distance apart.
Blindfold and bit gag creating sightless eyes and muffled sighs that will soon grow to groans and cries.
Tightened nipples cushioned and caressed by soft cotton down contrasted by the firm press of knee to floor alleviated only by the plump of a pillow.
He cruelly extends that moment of waiting, all focus is on him, his presence behind like heat from a furnace; as he surveys his handiwork and devours the sight.
The manifestations of his control, the growing connection as the moment turns electric. Your whole presence yearns for him to do something, nothing, anything, to prolong that time, to end that time, that endless time.
Then he does.
He snaps the tension; the almost living presence between you now.
He gently, ever so gently, strokes his hand from the side of your waist, past the curve of your restrained arm, down into the dip of you back and then over the crest of you bare bottom.
His fingers casually grazing the two places that call out for attention one so puckered the other pulsing wetter at his tune.
All this he knows, a calculated play on his part.
Thus the moment is broken, ended and the rest begins.......
Monday 26 September 2011
His Hand
The fires' flickers blur and haze, as the room fills ever more with the smell of woodsmoke, cigar and musky male.
Voices mummer as if from a distance, like hearing a conversation underwater or from another room.
You float through the present, unaware of time. No thoughts are present just peaceful daze.
His hand stroking your hair, tangling its' fingers through the strands, lightly pulling, then soothing. Travelling to your neck and shoulders, moulding, fluttering, digging, massaging down the back.
Leaning into the sensation content with anything his hand will give you, you lean into its warmth. The occasional hard pull, sharp dig, a light tickle as his hand follows an absentminded path.
You know you could spend hours just kneeling here, leaning against his knee or chair with that hand playing as it will.
Fully in the moment and yet out of the present time strand.
There, but absent to all except the heavenly warmth of him.
Voices mummer as if from a distance, like hearing a conversation underwater or from another room.
You float through the present, unaware of time. No thoughts are present just peaceful daze.
His hand stroking your hair, tangling its' fingers through the strands, lightly pulling, then soothing. Travelling to your neck and shoulders, moulding, fluttering, digging, massaging down the back.
Leaning into the sensation content with anything his hand will give you, you lean into its warmth. The occasional hard pull, sharp dig, a light tickle as his hand follows an absentminded path.
You know you could spend hours just kneeling here, leaning against his knee or chair with that hand playing as it will.
Fully in the moment and yet out of the present time strand.
There, but absent to all except the heavenly warmth of him.
Sunday 25 September 2011
Fairground Fantasy Writing
The sights and sounds of the fairground usually set my sights racing.
The colour, the noise, the people and that unique smell that shoves you straight into long ago childhood memories. Screams, jingles and bells all around, and all I can think of, is the man who is standing so close to me, controlling me in so many different ways.
My sight is on the approaching crowd but my sense of smell ignores the candyfloss and freshly baked donuts, and focuses on the unique smell of leather, smoke, and male, my male, that is surrounding me.
My sense of touch is focused on the feel of the cold breeze, every time I take a step it brushes past my ever increasing wet thighs. Due to a pussy pelmet skirt and an order to abstain from panties, my hot and swollen labia is oh so vulnerable. To the gusts that arrive every time my leg takes a stride forward and pushes open the protective covering of the loaned trench coat.
Left to my own devices I would have shortened my step to avoid having to part its long lengths but the hot hand at the small of my back keeps me at a pace, just enough to tease, but not enough to properly flash goers by.
My thoughts are filled with trying to keep the plug, 'kindly' lubed up for me earlier and fed in anally, from sliding out.
Fighting with that is the sensation that, due to a heavy sweater and no bra, each step also moves the nipple clamps, pushes and wiggles them, creating flashes of pain amongst the ever present ache that swirl downwards to clench my stomach and increase the wetness that the breeze is having so much fun with.
Mostly though, my mind and senses are on him, my Master, the one who has created this scenario, is leading me through it, who is my magnetic north for all my thoughts, feelings, and who directs my pain and my pleasure.
With my hands bound at the small of my back, hidden by his draped coat, I cannot help but rely on him to support me. I have to trust him and so I breath through all the sensations and reach for him as he taught me. Leaning against him as he guides me through.
Trusting in me that I will succeed, comply and above all, submit.
The colour, the noise, the people and that unique smell that shoves you straight into long ago childhood memories. Screams, jingles and bells all around, and all I can think of, is the man who is standing so close to me, controlling me in so many different ways.
My sight is on the approaching crowd but my sense of smell ignores the candyfloss and freshly baked donuts, and focuses on the unique smell of leather, smoke, and male, my male, that is surrounding me.
My sense of touch is focused on the feel of the cold breeze, every time I take a step it brushes past my ever increasing wet thighs. Due to a pussy pelmet skirt and an order to abstain from panties, my hot and swollen labia is oh so vulnerable. To the gusts that arrive every time my leg takes a stride forward and pushes open the protective covering of the loaned trench coat.
Left to my own devices I would have shortened my step to avoid having to part its long lengths but the hot hand at the small of my back keeps me at a pace, just enough to tease, but not enough to properly flash goers by.
My thoughts are filled with trying to keep the plug, 'kindly' lubed up for me earlier and fed in anally, from sliding out.
Fighting with that is the sensation that, due to a heavy sweater and no bra, each step also moves the nipple clamps, pushes and wiggles them, creating flashes of pain amongst the ever present ache that swirl downwards to clench my stomach and increase the wetness that the breeze is having so much fun with.
Mostly though, my mind and senses are on him, my Master, the one who has created this scenario, is leading me through it, who is my magnetic north for all my thoughts, feelings, and who directs my pain and my pleasure.
With my hands bound at the small of my back, hidden by his draped coat, I cannot help but rely on him to support me. I have to trust him and so I breath through all the sensations and reach for him as he taught me. Leaning against him as he guides me through.
Trusting in me that I will succeed, comply and above all, submit.
Monday 19 September 2011
Optimism
A new start has begun I hope.
On Saturday I came home having been in a hospital for three weeks. It was the most wonderful, peaceful place where I had constant care, help and counseling. I was able to go to church, talk to a chaplin, have some intense sessions with a counselor and got some really helpful advice from some physios.
Life is no longer looking bleak, I have a way to cope, an aim, a goal and remergence of the core of who I am.
That isn't saying that there aren't moments when it is a struggle but I feel much more in control and supported than I have been.
The hospital has shown me a way to live with ME and trying to improve my quality of life not just my health. It is also helping me develop tools in order to become an adult living with a disability rather than a child dependant on others.
This has been an eye opener and it is still taking time to get used to it. It has certainly shaken things up at home and is taking a little longer in that respect.
It was a bit claustraphobic and lonely to suddenly come home but I think I am overcoming that and taking steps to avoid sinking back into depression.
My life is a little more regimented and I have lots of proper rests, which has enabled me to be able to do a lot more. However I haven't suddenly become better overnight and the tasks I am doing are small and only for a short amount of time.
A big thing is that everyone has agreed I need to add some colour to my life and despite however tired it might make me feel I need to have a social life. I will be trying to go to the Saturday munch but although I am excited I am also nervous. I haven't been to one since Feburary, nor have I been about on Fetlife. Many people have moved on to other places and I feel I will be walking into mmostly a crowd of strangers.
When I went to my first munch there were only three other people - not scary at all, now it has grown and the amount there will be much larger and I am not sure how many people I will know. I am also dubious about my social ability - I haven't really talked with anyone for months and I haven't done anything interesting so I worry that I will be boring. Also I am nervous about how I will cope.
I won't be able to stay long, and I am not sure whether I will be in a wheelchair or not. My parents and I have been discussing getting one - walking and standing up are very tiring and so decrease the energy I want to use on other things. However a wheelchair has huge negative conatations and my parents are worried about that. For me, it is an enabling device, something that will let me do more things, get about more but I do realise that it is a scary thing as most look at it as a disabling device.
Life though is going on and right now I am happy about that and believe that once more I am living not just exsisting. All I have to do now is screw up my courage and rejoin the community that I left so abrubtly.
On Saturday I came home having been in a hospital for three weeks. It was the most wonderful, peaceful place where I had constant care, help and counseling. I was able to go to church, talk to a chaplin, have some intense sessions with a counselor and got some really helpful advice from some physios.
Life is no longer looking bleak, I have a way to cope, an aim, a goal and remergence of the core of who I am.
That isn't saying that there aren't moments when it is a struggle but I feel much more in control and supported than I have been.
The hospital has shown me a way to live with ME and trying to improve my quality of life not just my health. It is also helping me develop tools in order to become an adult living with a disability rather than a child dependant on others.
This has been an eye opener and it is still taking time to get used to it. It has certainly shaken things up at home and is taking a little longer in that respect.
It was a bit claustraphobic and lonely to suddenly come home but I think I am overcoming that and taking steps to avoid sinking back into depression.
My life is a little more regimented and I have lots of proper rests, which has enabled me to be able to do a lot more. However I haven't suddenly become better overnight and the tasks I am doing are small and only for a short amount of time.
A big thing is that everyone has agreed I need to add some colour to my life and despite however tired it might make me feel I need to have a social life. I will be trying to go to the Saturday munch but although I am excited I am also nervous. I haven't been to one since Feburary, nor have I been about on Fetlife. Many people have moved on to other places and I feel I will be walking into mmostly a crowd of strangers.
When I went to my first munch there were only three other people - not scary at all, now it has grown and the amount there will be much larger and I am not sure how many people I will know. I am also dubious about my social ability - I haven't really talked with anyone for months and I haven't done anything interesting so I worry that I will be boring. Also I am nervous about how I will cope.
I won't be able to stay long, and I am not sure whether I will be in a wheelchair or not. My parents and I have been discussing getting one - walking and standing up are very tiring and so decrease the energy I want to use on other things. However a wheelchair has huge negative conatations and my parents are worried about that. For me, it is an enabling device, something that will let me do more things, get about more but I do realise that it is a scary thing as most look at it as a disabling device.
Life though is going on and right now I am happy about that and believe that once more I am living not just exsisting. All I have to do now is screw up my courage and rejoin the community that I left so abrubtly.
Friday 5 August 2011
Life seems determined to speed by and yet each moment seems endless. Last week a different time, so much changing inside and yet bored by the monotony of what I am capable of. Guilt at lack of inclination to do anything in the times of self realisation which (un?)fortunately are few and far between.
Am I living?
Am I living?
Thursday 4 August 2011
Long time
I haven't posted for so long, in some ways I regret this and in other ways I don't. It was getting difficult to write, I knew people who read it and I started to care what they thought so started editing what I wanted to write - not really the point. I also lost the ability to write and think coherently for quite a long while and it is still a strain writing and I am very rarely on the computer anymore. I used to go on every day but now its more like every other week, not much has seemed important.
I have gone through some really difficult times and still am, some days it takes everything I have just get dressed, though recently it has been getting slightly easier. I am now seeing a therapist, my third session was on Tuesday. It has been surprising and I think it is helping, actually I know it is helping.
Before that though I got to my lowest point, I broke down and pleaded for help, I knew I needed it. I couldn't see a future and all I thought about was how to make it all stop and increasingly the answers became darker. My last post was in December - what a lifetime ago.
I was ill over Christmas, came down with a nasty flu bug and although it took me awhile to recover I did. However I then over did it, I tried to do too much and physically and emotionally I took a hit. I went to a club for the first time and there I met a guy! He was the first guy I have ever really clicked with, T was nice but A, wow, I just couldn't stop smiling after I met him. Or stop thinking about kissing him!
It seems all so silly now. I was so stupid, logically I knew I was as well but I also didn't think it would affect me so much. Emotionally the whole thing had a serious backlash. I underestimated the fact that I had never been through this before and the fact that my body reacts to strong emotions. Crying makes me sleep, anger makes me shake and then sleep and these are just minor flare ups not really strong first emotions accompanied by hormones!
It is sort of funny in a way I guess, the guy turned out to be a bastard but I did have my first kiss - wet and kinda awkward, which he then judged! (I was better than one of the guys he kissed in the club where we met, not much of a compliment as he had told me several days earlier that it was awful!) Half of it is that I now can't believe I was so idiotic but that life isn't it. But in order to see him I had also done to much, I had gone out five times in less than two weeks, tiring enough for anyone but the last straw for me and coupled with the emotional whammy the whole thing knocked me for six.
I haven't been right since, my brain went out of commission for quite awhile due partly to a diet I was put on to sort out my gut which managed to starve my brain - not fun and also painful. Then just endless days of struggling to get out of bed and do a bit each day, until the week of my birthday.
I turned 20, my younger sister started her A-levels, it was the birthday of my friend who died, and it was also the date of a picnic that I really wanted to go to in order to see friends. Well, I realised that I had now had ME for 11 years, I wasn't well enough to do anything for my birthday, I never managed to get an A-level, my reach for life starting with my friends death had lead here three years later and of course there was no way I was able to make that picnic. Of course it wasn't just this but everything one on top of the other just sort of dumped on top of me and I didn't have enough strength to stand against it.
Life looked endless, the future just another round of the same cycle always ending up ill at home having achieved nothing and I fell apart. I haven't picked myself up yet, I still can't do much more than read for a couple of hours or potter about for a bit without having to sleep for a bit. My sensitivity to light has increased. I can't stand to be around other people much. Having a conversation is sometimes just too hard. Noise is guaranteed to wind me up. I have no control over my emotions, I flare up in anger over the smallest thing and cry far too much. The thought of any treatment fills me with panic at the moment. Taking decisions and control is something that everyone was trying to make me do though I think they have finally got that at the moment my head space is just not conducive to that.
You see in order to make a decision about starting a new treatment and taking control of your life you have to believe that it is going to work and you have one. At the moment I don't. I do realise that's a problem and I hope that my therapy sessions will help. You see I know logically that I can get better, other people have and they have been much much worse but I can't see it anymore, I don't believe.
My mother thinks I have given up, who knows, she is probably right but I still, I just don't have it in me anymore to keep on pushing. I realise I am depressed, I am getting help. Unfortunately St. John's Wort which has helped in the past is no longer being sold due to some EU regulation and anything chemical reacts with my other pills and just isn't advisable.
So for now I live day to day, trying not to watch too much television, trying to play the piano a bit every day to try and get my brain working a bit and for the last two days I have also managed to potter down the drive, the first time in months that I have been able to do anything remotely like exercise.
And so I will continue until something changes, hoping that something will change, but between you and me - not really believing that it will.
I have gone through some really difficult times and still am, some days it takes everything I have just get dressed, though recently it has been getting slightly easier. I am now seeing a therapist, my third session was on Tuesday. It has been surprising and I think it is helping, actually I know it is helping.
Before that though I got to my lowest point, I broke down and pleaded for help, I knew I needed it. I couldn't see a future and all I thought about was how to make it all stop and increasingly the answers became darker. My last post was in December - what a lifetime ago.
I was ill over Christmas, came down with a nasty flu bug and although it took me awhile to recover I did. However I then over did it, I tried to do too much and physically and emotionally I took a hit. I went to a club for the first time and there I met a guy! He was the first guy I have ever really clicked with, T was nice but A, wow, I just couldn't stop smiling after I met him. Or stop thinking about kissing him!
It seems all so silly now. I was so stupid, logically I knew I was as well but I also didn't think it would affect me so much. Emotionally the whole thing had a serious backlash. I underestimated the fact that I had never been through this before and the fact that my body reacts to strong emotions. Crying makes me sleep, anger makes me shake and then sleep and these are just minor flare ups not really strong first emotions accompanied by hormones!
It is sort of funny in a way I guess, the guy turned out to be a bastard but I did have my first kiss - wet and kinda awkward, which he then judged! (I was better than one of the guys he kissed in the club where we met, not much of a compliment as he had told me several days earlier that it was awful!) Half of it is that I now can't believe I was so idiotic but that life isn't it. But in order to see him I had also done to much, I had gone out five times in less than two weeks, tiring enough for anyone but the last straw for me and coupled with the emotional whammy the whole thing knocked me for six.
I haven't been right since, my brain went out of commission for quite awhile due partly to a diet I was put on to sort out my gut which managed to starve my brain - not fun and also painful. Then just endless days of struggling to get out of bed and do a bit each day, until the week of my birthday.
I turned 20, my younger sister started her A-levels, it was the birthday of my friend who died, and it was also the date of a picnic that I really wanted to go to in order to see friends. Well, I realised that I had now had ME for 11 years, I wasn't well enough to do anything for my birthday, I never managed to get an A-level, my reach for life starting with my friends death had lead here three years later and of course there was no way I was able to make that picnic. Of course it wasn't just this but everything one on top of the other just sort of dumped on top of me and I didn't have enough strength to stand against it.
Life looked endless, the future just another round of the same cycle always ending up ill at home having achieved nothing and I fell apart. I haven't picked myself up yet, I still can't do much more than read for a couple of hours or potter about for a bit without having to sleep for a bit. My sensitivity to light has increased. I can't stand to be around other people much. Having a conversation is sometimes just too hard. Noise is guaranteed to wind me up. I have no control over my emotions, I flare up in anger over the smallest thing and cry far too much. The thought of any treatment fills me with panic at the moment. Taking decisions and control is something that everyone was trying to make me do though I think they have finally got that at the moment my head space is just not conducive to that.
You see in order to make a decision about starting a new treatment and taking control of your life you have to believe that it is going to work and you have one. At the moment I don't. I do realise that's a problem and I hope that my therapy sessions will help. You see I know logically that I can get better, other people have and they have been much much worse but I can't see it anymore, I don't believe.
My mother thinks I have given up, who knows, she is probably right but I still, I just don't have it in me anymore to keep on pushing. I realise I am depressed, I am getting help. Unfortunately St. John's Wort which has helped in the past is no longer being sold due to some EU regulation and anything chemical reacts with my other pills and just isn't advisable.
So for now I live day to day, trying not to watch too much television, trying to play the piano a bit every day to try and get my brain working a bit and for the last two days I have also managed to potter down the drive, the first time in months that I have been able to do anything remotely like exercise.
And so I will continue until something changes, hoping that something will change, but between you and me - not really believing that it will.
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