A brief fall from grace

The houseguest invited himself over to my place last night. Yes, I know - two nights in a row - very very extremely bad of me. But he lives so close!

Despite being a very good man, we saw a little bit of imperfect last night when he confessed to having told me a porky pie about his age. I was - can I say disappointed - but not entirely surprised. However, I would never have guessed it outright. Snaps to him for finally being honest.

Of course that called for punishment (oh, how fast these things turn from vanilla to D/s) and I entertained myself with some rather fun tease and orgasm control. It did make me feel much better about the whole thing. I made him promise to never lie to me again. Admittedly he would have agreed to anything considering the predicament he was in, but a promise is a promise no matter how it is elicited.

Suddenly there is not much vanilla in the houseguest. I think my rope skills will be back up to scratch in no time.

Mitzi, MPP and cakelady - you will be delighted to hear that the houseguest shall be strung up to the fucking chair and tormented, and this will be his treat when he attends to a small personal matter that is long overdue. I promise to share every minute detail with you.

Irritating men

It's not often I decide it's time for mexican and a margherita. But
tonight, it's time.

Mr Wax begged me not to blog about him. It's interesting, you know, that only the really poor ones make this request. He failed his challenge. I know, he had a week, but he set an appointment, turned up to find out they would not service him, and then blamed me for making a recommendation. Noting there was no possibility of completing the task within the allocated timeframe, Mr Wax asked for an extension. I failed him.

Suddenly he didn't need a time extension! It was just a false alarm that he was too busy with professional and personal commitments!

*sigh* It's just too hard. Next.

Note to all: there's only one person I ever promised to not blog about, and I should never have done it. Don't ever ask. Come into my life, and behave, and expect that I will always be transparent.

Now: I am seeing the houseguest twice in one week! He is cooking for me! Pulses, I expect! And long Saturday morning mooching in bed. Purr, freaking purr. I am actually quite easy to please, you know.

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P.S. I am now reviewing my superannuation. Over aforementioned margherita. I'd been dreading it, but over a salty, sour cocktail - it's not that horrid a task at all! I have resolved, in future, to only make major financal decisions over serious alcohol. So much easier! Xx

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Bound for more

Well, for those of you in the stands at home who were hoping ATD could last a week without biting his nails: he did it.

Today's post is going to involve a change of topic, though. I am going to write just a tiny bit about the houseguest.

Yesterday I started to re-read a book I downloaded when I was first investigating this wild world of kink. It's called Sexual Power for Women by Georgeann Cross. I remember perusing the first chapters and being aghast at the author's brazen domination of her partner. Months ago her behaviour seemed completely foreign to me and her lover's response quite unimaginable.

For no particular reason I opened the file early yesterday morning and read the first few chapters once again. My opinion had altered completely. How quickly things change.

The timing was remarkably good, because conveniently the houseguest came over last night. If you recall, he's sort of in my vanilla fuckbuddy bucket, although it is quickly becoming obvious that he is not really that vanilla at all. I cooked, we drank wine, the conversation was great. I was delighted to spend time with him again.

Later, on my suggestion - clearly I was inspired - I tied him to the bed. He was extremely agreeable. It has been a long time since I've tied someone to my bed. I felt rusty handling rope.

Once his wrists were bound, he sank into some beautiful place I've never seen. His breath became shallow. Butterflies skipped in my stomach. I pressed myself into his face, toyed with him, and then enjoyed several more respectable orgasms before setting him free.

I am not sure how often I will write about the houseguest. But last night was significant, and I felt the need to share it with you, because it has been a long time. xx

Pushing the envelope

ATD reported last night that he still hadn't bitten his nails. He's now on the homeward stretch. I have decided that if he does make it through until tomorrow night, then I will actually somehow get over his tardiness last week.

You might think that's a given, but in all seriousness I am not sure if I have ever forgiven someone for bad behaviour like that before. Normally I hold it against them indefinitely. (Ask me about my 'three strikes' rule some time.)

Yesterday I issued a challenge for another CollarMe hopeful. Hard, as always, but with a dash of humiliation this time - he likes spanking, and to demonstrate his genuine interest I have instructed him to have his crack and balls waxed. I even wrote a note for him that he could hand to the therapist.

Nobody has yet declined a challenge or punishment. They do these things of their own free will. I keep looking around for the powerful strong lady that makes these men co-operate and it's sometimes very shocking to think that it's me who is making these demands and having them met.

I suppose this approach has come about as a result of a few recent conversations and experiences. After MPP came back from Europe, she brought with her a very interesting book - The Mistress Manual. She rightly reinforced to me the importance of making a submissive prove themselves worthy.

The entrepreneur is adamant that men need to be forced to do what it is that you want of them.

And then, down at the kinky farm, I saw the lady in charge in fine form. She stood up to the submissives, looked them straight in the eye and told them to do whatever she wanted. I could see them waver, unsure whether to obey, knowing it was some admission of her power. But they always did.

In many ways it is self-fulfilling. The more I create tasks and punishments, the better, the more challenging, the more appropriate they become. The more I wonder what on earth I'll dish up next.

Things on the 'to get' list

I'm going to keep this post dynamic as I add things to the toybox.

1. A Horseland trip. At the very minimum, I want to pick up some horsey cohesive bandages in pretty colours.

HORSELAND FYSHWICK Unit 3, Shop 14 Ipswich St, Fyshwick 2609 Hmm... :)

(1/11 Went to horseland last weekend - and have about 8 rolls of cohesive bandage. Hooray).

2. A deluxe stubborn dog trainer device with remote. I saw one of these in action the other day. Purr.

3. Surgical scissors and a rope cutter.

4. Fishing weights.

5. More rope. Long lengths of nylon that makes the pretty marks.

6. A knife sharpening class and a sharpening stone.

7. J Lube

8. St John's Ambulance first aid course. Must stop putting it off.

9. The very lovely rechargeable lelo cock ring.

10. Pink pallet wrap.

Naughty

I ate dinner with my family last night. Meanwhile, the rest of Sydney, it seemed, were out and about dressed in Halloween costumes.

I am normally used to seeing people half-naked in flashy bling, but this was different: it was voyeuristic dressups for the masses, and it was aesthetically fascinating. Of course, the slutty fashion statements provided inspiration for my own future kinky outfits.

At the station I was approached by a well-meaning but doddery old man.

"A watched pot never boils," he said.

He was referring to the time we would have to wait until the train arrived.

"A woman told me many years ago that if there's a single thing you should do every day it is to make someone smile," he said next.

Oh dear, did I really look that sullen?

He spoke to me about his new King Charles Spaniel, Mozart, and his hometown, Cootamundra, and why he catches the train, and providing financial assistance to his daugher to buy a house in Sydney, and his son's recent wedding to a brunette Norwegian who was 182 centimetres tall.

I spoke to him about Fatty and Gracie and he admitted he is not a fan of the feline.

He asked me where I was going. "Home," I said, "to Kings Cross."

"Where all the naughty girls are? I haven't been to that neck of the woods for a long time."

"Well," I said, "there's not that many prostitutes working the strip these days. And there are probably only four strip clubs in the Cross that I can think of. And there are only a few sex shops too, but generally speaking the entire area has gentified quite a bit lately."

We discuss the merits of living in my neighbourhood, the reason for the decline of the sex trade in Kings Cross (I blame the internet, for providing porn for free), and as we disembark the train he reminds me to not be a naughty girl.

I smile, and he notes it as the second one he managed to elicit.

"I'll have you know I am a very good girl indeed," I replied.

You have no idea how good.

"With a face like that I bet you are," he laughed. "Now you can tell all your friends about the crazy old man who gave his dog a silly name."

And I did.

Who woulda thunk it?

ATD is actually looking like he might survive his punishment. I know, I know, I'll believe it when I see it. He has until Tuesday night at 10:15pm.

X came over last night after a few weeks absence. I had to be up early this morning for a job interview (yes, I have a vanilla life, you know) and left him to sleep in. Instead he made the bed, did the dishes, and tidied up generally. In addition to giving me all-night snuggles and saying nice things to me. Much needed, really.

I have plans to catch up with the houseguest next Tuesday (note to self: don't have too many Melbourne Cup champagnes).

So it's looking very possible that the fuckbuddy situation, and the kinky play situation might be sorting itself out. (The houseguest responds very well to being held down and fucked so he's got A-grade potential.) As far as the actual slightly more formal relationship business is concerned: it's a disaster zone, but what's really so new about that?

After a day or two of text messages exchanged with plaything, I have resolved that I will not contact him again. There. Done. Now just to delete his number from my phone. (I have done it a few times before, for the record. I am sure I can do it again.)

In terms of what you should stay tuned for: MPP and I have been bouncing around ideas in the event that ATD survives the test. I think it will make for excellent reading.