The Natural

the natural

 

A friend told me that if I was a serial killer, I would be a collector.  She went on to say that I would keep a token from each of those I killed.

WHAT????

I asked her where she got such a crazy thought.

Her reply, “I read your blog. You savor each experience.  Sharing them is like collecting a piece of it for yourself to have as a memento.”

How interesting….I love that she went there.  Great correlation.

And what a good friend to enlighten me.  (If ever I do have the inclination to off one of my suitors, I will be sure to keep a finger or some appendage to reminisce…I digress…)

Which brings me to this post.  I am struggling to write this one.  I almost don’t want to share it.

I don’t want to decide how to tag it.

How to categorize it.

How to label it.

In fact, I cannot come up with a proper blog name for Him. I cannot find a fit.

I can’t put a label on Him.

He’s different.

Surprisingly different.

(Yes, this is the man I mentioned in my last post, “All These Things…”)

We met in a very typical way, on OK Cupid.  He messaged me about my profile and his message seemed sincere.  It was not appearance-based, which was refreshing.  He seemed to connect with the words on my profile, rather than just my picture.

We began messaging about ourselves…our lives…our work…our experiences with online dating.

We had a sincere connection.  And there was a spark there.

And you know me….in proper fashion,  I decided to sabotage the whole thing, as I sometimes do…and I shared my blog with Him.

Like a select few, it did not scare Him away.

It intrigued Him.  He was not intimidated at all.

Interesting gent…

So we got over that speed bump.

But you know my track record with OKC.  Some have been great and others have seemed perfect and fizzled within the first minutes of our initial meeting.  So I was hesitant.

Will he be real?  Will he be who he seems to be?

We finally agreed to meet on a Wednesday for coffee.  But it turns out on the Monday prior to our date, I was child-free (a rare occurrence in my life) so I asked if he would like to come by my house for coffee.

He was most agreeable.

Around 4:00 pm,  I received a text.

“Here are your instructions for the evening:

1.  Wear a perfume that you like.  I will need to know the name of it, as you will be instructed to wear this each time we meet.

2.  Your safeword is “freeze”

3.  Warning words are yellow and red.  Used like a traffic light

4.  Your pet name is “little girl”

5.  You will address me as Sir.

I will arrive at 8:45.  We will begin our initial meeting in a casual/vanilla way.  I will then take control when I see fit and you will adhere to the guidelines outlined above.”

I love instructions.

But here’s the thing…He was not a seasoned Dom.  In fact, He had just really learned about the lifestyle through my blog.

He had no experience.

Obviously, a quick study.  Or maybe he’s just naturally this way?

I wanted to reply to his instruction with a “DDDAAAAYYYUUUMMM” (southern speak for Damn)

But I simply replied, “Yes Sir”

As usual, I was running behind trying to get the kids settled in at their respective places.  I messaged him and asked for a few more minutes.

He reluctantly gave me 10 additional minutes.

At exactly 8:55, he arrived at my doorstep.

Tall…

Great physique, strong and in command…

Dark-hair…

Handsome…

Looked to me like he could have been closely related to both Tobey Maguire and Joaquin Phoenix.

He had the presence I seek.  It was oozing from his pores.

Again, I speak southern…DAMN

Just as he said, our evening began in a very causal, vanilla way.  About a half hour into our great chat, he looked at me and said,

“Are you ready to play?”

I was beyond ready.

He began the evening with some serious impact play, courtesy of my new riding crop.  He was relentless in his task.  I kept losing track of the number we were on.  He was always willing to start over…

I recall looking back at Him, thinking I may have caught the glimpse of a sadistic grin on his face.

Then things moved into a more mutual physical expression.  We were a perfect match for each other.

The intensity was reciprocal.

Like a storm, we gained momentum together.  Our energy fueled the crazy-hot, furious passion.

He whispered in my ear, the things he planned to do to me.

So hot…

He looked deep into my eyes as he was deeply inside me and then he grinned that slightly sadistic grin…

As he clutched my throat.

His stare was piercing.  The look in his eyes, combined with the pressure around my neck brought me to an entirely different level.  I was heading over my edge.

There was no turning back for either of us.

We arrived at this same place together, with his strong hands around my soft neck.

Sigh…

And I never mentioned breath play to him.  He instinctively went there. He knew what I liked without me having to tell him.

Isn’t that what we all really want?

Someone who gets us.  Who understands our needs without us needing to spell it out?

And as for me, I want it all.

The passion.

His Dominance over me.

My submission to Him.

Our intensity together.

The unspoken understanding between us.

And so far, I have found this with Him.

But still, I hesitate to assign Him a blog name, as I feel He will morph into many different characters.

So for now, let’s call Him….

The Natural.

That says it all…

 

 

 

 

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Getting to the Point (Bond-part 2)

 

Disclaimer: Like the one before, this post may be too intense for some readers, especially those who do not subscribe to the lifestyle. Use caution before reading.

Now on with it….

Bond and I were about to explore limits with knife play. Here’s where we left off:

“Are you ready to test your limits, little girl?”

Am I ready?  Really ready?

Please note, readers:  Rational thinking should really kick-in at this point. The sound of the little voice that says, “this is crazy…get out before it’s too late” should be deafening.

Instead in my own voice, I confidently said, “Yes, Sir”

I had my back turned towards Bond.  He wrapped his arms around me from behind in a very affectionate embrace.  He slowly ran the point of the knife up my left thigh, applying some pressure, but not breaking the skin.  He traced a line on both of my legs and up stomach, up further and further.  He circled my breasts and traced my spine.  It was not painful, but I could feel the point of the imposing knife.

Which brings me to my point.

In this session of play, it was not about pain, but rather the intensity.  It was the taboo of playing with sharp and dangerous objects.  The fear of being cut.  And most of all, it was about trusting Bond.  I realized at this “point” that what I crave along with fear is the ability to trust.

Enlightenment.  (I should really be able to get this type of thing (fear/trust) from a company-paid ropes course, but this is far more fun)

We carried on with our evening.  Bond was a very experienced Dom.  I initially thought of him as a pain Dom, a sadist, a cruel bastard.  I realized as we went further, that he was more of a blend.  He craved my response.  That was his drug.  He was part sensual Dom.

Once again, Enlightenment.

Mr. Bond continued to test my limits and delivered pleasure beyond anything I’d ever experienced before.  And although I ventured into the session with a distaste for bondage, Bond helped me understand it’s purpose.  Sometimes the intensity and release would become too much.  It was too good to experience.  It was beyond my threshold.  Had I not been restrained, I would have tried to escape.  I would not have allowed myself to go that far.  To be that consumed with pleasure.

Bond took me there.  Somewhere….where no one has gone before.

There’s really not much you can do to resist, when your legs are tied.  Your wrists are cuffed and tied behind your back.  It is a feeling of helplessness.  You must be able to fully and completely trust your Dom.  That’s the mental part of submission.  It is born out of the restraint.

In between play time, we talked at length about different things.  Our vanilla lives.  Our dark desires.  Our struggles to blend the two worlds.  (He was adept at the blend, it’s me who struggles)

Mr. Bond explained to me that I had a strong personality. Trust me, I’ve heard this before.  He went on to say that because of my dominance in my vanilla life that I try “topping from the bottom”.  This means I try to “control” the situation from my submissive role.  And if I truly wanted to submit, I had to let go of all control.

Which is precisely what I did.  We carried on for hours.  Testing limits.  Giving and receiving pleasure.  Talking.  Playing.  And being intimate and close, the scariest part for me.  But I took Bond’s instruction and let go.  I deliberately gave away control.

I gave it all to him.  As an offering.

To be continued….sog - Copy

 

Feeling Good…(Bond part 1)

Oh freedom is mine
And I know how I feel

It’s a new dawn
It’s a new day
It’s a new life
For me

(Cliché alert)

“What a difference a day makes”

I am struggling to write this post.  There is so much I want to share about my experience with Mr. Bond.  I am different person today than I was yesterday.  I am changed.  Changed by this encounter.

In many ways, I am free.

Warning:  This post is long and in no way will do the evening the justice it deserves.

Disclaimer: This post may be too intense for some readers, especially those who do not subscribe to the lifestyle. Use caution before reading further.  You have been warned….

Here goes:

Waking up yesterday morning I was already high on adrenaline.  Almost drunk, but focused on preparing for the evening.  So anxious.  So excited.  So nervous.

So READY for Bond.

I arrived at the hotel just in time to get ready.  I meticulously unpacked my suitcase, hanging the dresses I brought in the closet.  I placed my toiletries on the bathroom counter.  I stocked the refrigerator with bottles of water.  I became familiar with my surroundings.

I texted Mr. Bond to let him know I had arrived and began to prepare myself for the evening.

It was nice to take a long shower, a rare treat for me with work and kids.

I readied myself.  Remember, he requested that I wear a dress, heels, red lips and toes.  No underwear.

I decided to break the rules right out of the gate, and I put on my favorite pair of lacy panties.

Nothing like a disobedient sub.

He instructed me to go to the bar and have a couple of drinks.  I complied.  The bar was almost empty.  I was really overdressed for such a place.  Nervous about what would happen next, I quickly drank the 3 Ketel One Cape Cods I ordered.

I received a text: “I am at the room”

He’s here….OMG

Me:  “Cashing out.  Be there in just a minute”

Bond: “Bring your drink with you.  Come now”

Of course the bartender was beyond slow, delaying me further.  Doesn’t she know I will get in trouble if I’m late???

I stepped off of the elevator and began walking towards the room.  It was a suite at the very end of a long hallway.  In front of the door stood Bond, watching me walk towards him.

Keep in mind, I had just consumed 3 (that is three, Roman numerals III) very strong drinks moments before.  Walking with purpose was a bit of a challenge.  But once I saw him, I was in the zone.

(And note, beside him was a large imposing, square black duffel bag….Pandora’s Box)

Here I come, Bond.  I am coming for you.

We exchanged friendly banter as I descended down the corridor.  I felt an instant connection.  He was as handsome as his photo and very friendly.  I immediately felt at ease.

I put the card in the door and as I opened it, Bond gave me a grin.

A sadistic grin.

He wrapped his arm around my throat and forced me into the room, careful not to allow my face to hit the wall.  He was behind me, pinning me to the wall.

His breath was warm in my ear.  His voice was direct as he whispered, “Don’t you ever fucking make me wait for you, little girl.  Do you understand me?”

I managed to muster an answer, “Yes.”

He pinned me harder to the wall, “Yes, what?”

I know better.  I was so shocked by the pinning, that I forgot my manners.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl”

We kissed.  He was an excellent kisser and I became comfortable again.  He surveyed my outfit to ensure I had followed instructions.

Oh crap…I had willfully disobeyed him.  It’s on.  I am in trouble.

“You look very nice tonight.  You are really a beautiful woman.”

“Thanks, Sir”

He kissed me again and reached up my dress.

I’m in for it now….

He discovered the panties.

“Why are you wearing panties?”

I decided in a flash not to tell him I’d intentionally worn them, fearing my punishment.

“I thought you wanted me to wear panties”

His voice was stern, “There is no, ‘I thought’ little girl.  You either understand your instructions or not.  You told me you understood them, did you not?”

“Yes, Sir.  I am sorry, Sir.”

He then bent me over the table and ripped them off, exposing my backside to him.  I knew what was coming next.

“You did something you weren’t supposed to do, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

His hand was swift and precise across my backside.  Followed by another and another.  All in the same place.

I cried out.  The sting was intense.

“You’ve taken your punishment like a good girl.  Remember, you must obey me.”  He turned me to face him.  My eyes were slightly welled-up from the sting of his hand.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you will obey me.”

“Sir, I will obey you.”  I peered into his kind eyes, trying to see if I could predict what was coming next.

“Good girl, now take off your dress.  Leave your heels on.”

I quickly complied.  As I was following orders, I caught a glimpse of the bag.  Pandora’s Box.  He saw me look at it and he walked over and unzipped it slowly before flinging it open.

“I’ve got lots of things in here for you.”

Oh shit.  Now I am nervous.

I stood in front of him.  Naked.  Vulnerable.  He could sense that I was uneasy.

He took my face in his hands and kissed me.  He then turned me around and guided my hands down on the coffee table.

Now I was really vulnerable.  Exposed to him.

He began rummaging through his box of tricks.  He clearly had an object in mind.

I tried to look back to see what he was doing.

“Turn around.  Keep your hands on the table.”

He’s on to me.  I better obey.

“How does if feel to be exposed to me like this?”  he asked.  I pondered my response.

“I feel vulnerable, Sir.”

“Good girl.  You have to be honest with me for me to push your limits.”

Limits?  What is coming next?

He rummaged some more.  I then heard him plug something in.  I heard the humming sound of a motor.

He rummaged again.  The suspense was exciting.

I heard something metal…but it didn’t sound like a knife, it sounded like keys.

Keys?  What would he do with keys?

Then I heard it…I couldn’t mistake for anything else.

It was the sound of a blade being opened.  He opened it and closed it.

Then he did it again.

Bond had a knife.  And he wasn’t afraid to use it.

He placed it on the coffee table in front of me.

Before I could even react to the knife, I felt his hand over mine.  He told me to get on my knees and face him.

He was sitting on the couch behind me and on my knees I turned to face him.

He took my hand and placed a leather cuff on it, fitting it snugly, but not too tight.  He then pulled out a small lock and secured the cuff to my wrist.

A lock?  Are you kidding me?

With careful detail, he repeated the ritual with my other wrist.  All the while making eye contact with me.

Facing him he explained the rules to me.

“I own you right now.  Do you understand that?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You are not allowed to cum unless I say you can.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.  That may be hard for me at first, but I will do my best.”

“Good girl you will obey”

He was swift in his work.  He quickly brought me to the edge over and over again.  Finally I begged for release.

“Sir, can I please?  Please, Sir.  Let me…”

“Hold it for me, not yet.” His voice was direct.

It was agony and he knew it.  It was his way of conditioning me to do his will.  I was high on the experience.  It was unlike anything I’d experienced before.

Finally I was allowed to let go.  It was intense and euphoric.  I almost forgot about the leather cuffs on my wrists and the knife on the table.

Bond had not forgotten.

He told me to retrieve a towel from the bathroom.  When I got up to walk to the bathroom, he quipped, “No.  I want you to crawl to the bathroom.  I want to watch you.”

How sexy.  I still had my heels on.

I crawled slowly to the bathroom and picked up a towel.  To add to the atmosphere, I decided to bring it back in my mouth.

Mr. Bond liked this.  So submissive.

Upon returning to the table (let’s call it an altar) I noticed that the knife was missing.

Is the towel in case I bleed?

And then I heard it…the undeniable sound of him switching the knife open.

Mr. Bond was about the cut the ties that held me back all these years.

To be continued…

photo1 (1)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Offering

blindfolded

So much to do.  I have waited for this day.

I’ve waited so much longer than a week.  So much longer than I’ve even known this man I call, Mr. Bond.

Today I prepare myself for something life-changing.

Today, I cross the threshold.

A locked door will finally be opened.

There is no going back.

The anticipation is thick and dense.

Its sweet aroma is intoxicating.

I drape myself on this altar of longing,

As it is me….

I am the offering.

I offer myself to Him, to consume me.

Submitting freely to the experience.

Mr. Bond, Sir, I am quite ready for you…

I willingly sacrifice myself

Because Bond, You Only Live Twice

The Deep End

Today is Friday.  Finally an end to a painfully  long week.

Tomorrow is Saturday.

My journey continues. 

As I prepare for my encounter with James Bond (aka the sadistic grinner) I see a vivid mental image of what I am about to experience.

Up to this point, here’s my journey so far.

I am sticking my toe in the pool.  Feeling the initial shock from the cool water.

Then dangling my legs in the pool.  Only exposing part of me to the water.

Halfway in, but halfway out.  Gradually easing into the pool.

Allowing myself the time to adjust to the harsh change in temperature.

As I become comfortable…plunging under the water, completing submerged.

Emerging refreshed and aware.  Confident.

Tomorrow’s image is a bit different.

I picture myself climbing a hill. It’s a long trek.

Winding.  Rocky.  Steep in places.

I continue to climb.  Heading towards my destination.  Determined.

Reaching the pinnacle, I survey my progress.

Looking down at the lake, I see the crystal blue water.

Without hesitation, I walk to the edge of this cliff I’ve conquered.

With arms outstretched, I let go.

I let go and dive into the uncertain waters below….

Plunging into the depths of my desires and fears.  Slowly taking it all in.

Finally…coming to the surface to breathe.

Feeling alive.

Baptized.

let go

Stirred…But Not Shaken, Mr. Bond

I am an addict.

Yes, an addict.

My drug is not tangible. It’s not the obvious.

It is NOT what you’re assuming….

It is not sex. That just happens to be a by-product of the rush.

Fear is my drug.

Fear of the unknown. The sheer anticipation of what’s to come.

It’s an adrenaline high that rivals no other.

The other thrill-seekers out there are thinking, you could get the same rush from doing so many other things.

I can’t say that I would get the same rush from bungee jumping, or sky diving. By comparison, those are tame…there are many controlled factors: a parachute, bungee cord, professionals to guide you through, etc. The variables are the “what-if’s” that exist to thrill.

What if the parachute doesn’t open? What if the cord breaks?  The outcome will likely be the same.

When it comes to my search for a Dominant, everything is a variable. There are no controlled factors.

You cannot control a man’s intent.

You cannot control the depths of a man’s dark desire.

And you cannot control a man’s actions, especially a Dominant man. Particularly a sadist (we’ll come back to this)

You can only adapt and control your response.

That’s the thrill for me, in this journey as the perfect submissive.

Being face-to-face with the unknown.

The penetrating eye contact.

Only being to anticipate next steps from their cues/directives.

And knowing that I have willingly put myself in the situation to submit to them.

I had resolved in my head, to back away from Mr. Bond. He was so experienced in the lifestyle. So aware of his own desires and how I could fulfill them, that I found myself fearful. It was scary on a level that shook this fear-addict.

But then curiosity got the best of me. He is so fascinating. So real. So confident.

I decided I should at least meet him once to assess how I felt in his presence.

But I already know how I feel in his presence…vulnerable.

I needed to test my limits.

We agreed to meet next Saturday evening.  He selected a hotel.

I was given specific instructions of how to prepare and what to wear.

At the specified time, I am to be waiting for him at the bar.

I am to wear a dress.

With black heels.

My hair is to be down and wild (not hard here in the South…humidity dictates wild)

My lips and toes will be red.

I am not allowed to wear underwear.

He will approach me at the bar. I am to wait for his signal.

I’ve already played the entire scene out in my head. He will walk in, such the handsome devil and observe me from afar, carefully assessing whether or not I followed his instructions.

He will then approach me from behind. Whispering something in my ear that only an experienced Dom would say, while grinning, sadistically.

From there, he will taunt me with innuendo and possibly coerce me into doing risqué things in public. After all, there is a reason we are meeting in a bar. In a public place. He has a plan.

There is always a method to this sadist’s madness.

I am giddy with excitement. I know that I will experience things I’ve never tried before.

I know that he will test my limits.

He will help me push my limits.  I have given him permission.

He’s in my head.

And as scary as all of this is, I know that he will keep me safe. That is the number one role of any Dom, to keep their submissive safe.

My soul is stirred….but my core is not shaken, Mr. Bond.

Next weekend cannot get here fast enough for this eager Bond girl.

The Sadist Who Loved Me…

He was the closest thing to James Bond that I had met in my 40 years on this earth. 

He was handsome.  Dear GOD, was he handsome….and charming.  And successful.  And charismatic.  And normal

And he was a sadist.  Yes, you read it correctly…SADIST.

So you ask, “how does a nice girl like you end up with a sadist, like him?”  Easy.  I went searching for enlightenment. 

I tend to be of the mindset that there are no coincidences in the world.  That everything happens for a purpose.  Sometimes we don’t know the purpose, but we accept and understand that there is a reason behind it all. 

He was a sadist.  He was here to test my limits. 

As referenced in an earlier post, I was exposed to this lifestyle at a young age and it simply is a part of who I am.  Learning the ways of the submissive has actually made me resilient and strong. Contrary to popular belief, it’s not a sign of weakness.  Being a submissive is a matter of choice.  It is a way to show your strength by letting go of the controls. 

Mr. Bond was ready to take the controls.  Ready to take complete control. 

In the days leading up to our first encounter, my new mentor challenged to me to learn to express my desires, which is actually a scary thing to do…digging deep within your darkest places and sharing those thoughts with someone. 

He was relentless in his persistence (a foreboding of things to come, I am sure) and I caved in.  We communicated via IM.  So I had to literally spell it out.  How unnerving.  Here’s how the conversation went:

Bond:  Are you ready to tell me you darkest desires?

Me:  Yes, Sir

Bond:  Let it out

Me:  Trying Sir.  Difficult to put into words

Bond:  TRY HARDER

Me:  Here goes…BTW what’s your experience with knives?

Bond:  A favored tool of the trade

Me:  I am tied to the bed…all four corners

Bond:  Face up or face down? 

Me:  Face up.  You are hovering over me, plotting your next move.  You stroke my face tenderly.  Then you grin.  It’s a sadistic grin and I can tell something is about to happen. 

Bond:  What do I do to you?  Tell me

Me:  You thrust yourself inside me.  Taking me completely

Bond: And?

Me:  You won’t allow me to finish.  You say, “You’re not allowed to cum, young lady.  If you do, there will be consequences”  But it’s beyond that.  I can’t turn back

Bond:  So you disobey your Master?

Me:  Yes

Bond:  There will be consequences.  You know I am a sadist.

Me:  Yes, I know.  You untie me long enough to turn me over onto my stomach, before binding me again.  I am totally exposed to you.  You walk into the other room and come back in with your box of toys.  Let’s call it Pandora’s Box.

Bond:  Like the name.  This is good…go on

Me:  I can hear the sound of metal in the box.  I find it quite alarming, as I can’t imagine what you would have that’s metal. 

Bond:  You have NO idea what’s really in my box

Me:  You take something out.  I can’t see it, as I am face down.  You come back the bed and straddle me.  You begin massaging my shoulders gently moving down my back.  I am enjoying it, but still wondering what’s in store for me

Bond:  Smart girl to wonder…

Me:  You reach behind you and retrieve what you took out of the box.  I feel it.  It’s cold and metal.  You say, “I am holding a knife in my hand, little girl.  You know I am not going to injure you, but I am going to punish you for your disobedience”

Bond:  You know me well.  Carry on, I am taking notes

Me:  I am terrified.  I have never pushed these type of limits before. My heart is racing.  You slowly and carefully stroke the knife down my spine…careful to not apply too much pressure. 

Bond:  Get to it…

Me:  You come to my backside and swirl the point all around.  You instruct me, “You must lie completely still no matter what.  Do you understand me?”  I whisper, “yes”.  You then pinch some skin from my bottom holding it between your thumb and forefinger and you slowly puncture it with the tip of the knife.  Ahhh, the release…

Bond:  Do you like it?

Me:  I do.  It is painful, but I am learning to experience pleasure with pain under your instruction.

Bond:  Good girl.  On with it. 

Me:  You do it again.  “Do you know why I am torturing you, little girl?  Because you didn’t obey your Master.  You must learn to do what I say, when I say it.”  You do it again.  And again.

Bond:  You know me well, already

Me:  You turn my face where I can see yours. And stroking my face you grin again.  I am beginning to understand the grin.  It’s a harbinger of things to come.  You take me again.  It is all consuming.  I find myself over the edge quickly, but this time, you allow it. 

Bond:  Well done.  You expressed some dark desires.  Now was that so bad?

Me:  No, Sir.  It was actually liberating

Bond:  Good girl.  I will bring my knives on Friday

Me:  Sir, we need to work up to that.  This was merely a scene in my head.  I hope that you will be easy with me the first time

Bond:  Of course I will

Bond:  Grinning

Bond:  Sadistically

To be continued: FRIDAY