Now I’m seeking a new map, one that will help me navigate the confusing path to my inner slut where I become the object of the other person’s desire that takes me to amazing sexual heights.

Someone said today that the only dungeon I need is one created in my mind… I agree. I drift into arousal and in that state I seek images and ideas that will help me express my feelings….. it isn’t shackles or chains, I look at the elaborate arrangements where ropes deform breasts and penetrate labia and they frighten me.. they represent a form of punishment that has nothing to do with pleasure, a cruelty divorced from tenderness.

But then I think about what really frightens… and therein maybe lies the key….. to me torture is silence, punishment is disapproval.. so instead of seeing myself suspended by ropes, or encased in rubber… I see a woman with her head lowered almost to the level of the other person’s foot…. I’m entreating that person….I’m begging for their approval.

The desperate thing…. and yes, it is a feeling of desperation…… the desperate thing is I cannot tell them….. I have to wait…. Until they notice me, until they say what they want, until they tell me what to beg for….. to please them…..

The other thing someone pointed out is that for me being a whore is a state of mind…..so the challenge is not to imprison me but release the whore….

I sense the answer to both puzzles….. being able to communicate what switches on my submissiveness and unleashes the whore lies in the other person….I have to wait to be noticed… the silence is the torture that brings me to the point of desperation; I will beg for anything to avoid the punishment of being ignored.

The other images… brought to my mind by these words……

I am alone, I know I cannot move…. I’m unable to see if anyone is there, in a position of supplication….. no sound but my own breathing, no sensation but the fluttering of my pulse in my neck…. I might as well be wearing a rubber mask, chained to a ring in the wall, in a soundproofed room, but the chains are invisible, the prison created by my fear of rejection.

I am conflicted by the thought of punishment……on the one hand I need to be punished or tortured so I am aroused by the urge to beg, so is it associated with pleasure or pain?…if I’m ignored…. Is it cruelty or tenderness?

Going back to the start of my blog has been something of a shock…….. I was so naïve last year, the things I considered so far out and deviant seem, well, rather vanilla now.

Even realising that has been a revelation…..what does it say about my sexual needs and even about my sexuality?

I have a very dark core… by dark I mean there is a streak running through my psyche that is masochism, pure and simple.

I have begun to apply that analysis to the fantasies that have always been with me, the tested and true…the comfortable glove that always works when I seek release.

The verdict?

All of my fantasies have a very dark thread that involves me being deeply humiliated by one or more people, put in embarrassing situations and often made to do things to people whose personal hygiene and habits would normally disgust me. The thing I have always known is that being put in these situations is deeply arousing, just the thought of it has the power to make me shudder uncontrollably.

The masochism is interesting…..Anita Philips in her book, A Defence of Masochism, notes: “masochism’s final, unexpected message is to forget yourself’.
The essence here is the subsuming of one’s will into that of another. The masochist does not act on her own behalf, does not occupy a space of responsibility but rather occupies such a space within another person.
As she moves closer to negating the experience of her own subjectivity, maybe in the throes of a controlled orgasm, the masochist comes ever closer to herself as an object.

This is not to say I become an object in the state of extreme sexual arousal, but rather that my reality turns virtual as I become a construct within another person’s sexual activity.

I’m me, but then I’m not me……the debased slut or whore that I become when begging to cum is not someone I recognise, it is almost as though I am a character in a video game.

How does this work? The switch happens if I become very aroused; when the other person describes what is being done to my alter-ego or issues instructions about what my other self should do.
In this state I am unable to explain what is happening to me, I am unable to behave rationally; I whisper, beg and act as if I’m the being the other person has created to satisfy their sexual desires. The person I am in real life no longer exists.

This is not about being tied up and tortured, what most people would consider to be masochism; it is the surrender of one’s will, the mental state that Philips refers to.

How far might it go? I really have no idea, I haven’t yet found a fantasy in this genre that doesn’t work, if it meets the conditions above.

Where am I now?

I was struck by a quote I came across recently…… I have been thinking about the separation between love and lust, affection and sex mainly because I think I have discovered that submissives have difficulty is distinguishing between the two…..the need to belong and the need to be owned feels the same to me. A real problem arises out of the inability to differentiate between belonging – affection and the desire to share one’s life – and being owned – sexual satisfaction in return for giving pleasure according to someone else’s direction.
Written like this the difference seems obvious, but it is the result of 20:20 hindsight – my reflection on the mistakes I have made in relationships… or rather trying to work out why those relationships didn’t work……the key factor was neediness…. I wanted those men to control me and they saw it as me being clingy….

Of course I never realised that it was a sexual neediness……that arose out of a high sex drive and I suspect that if they had recognised it then those relationships might have turned out very differently.
I was asked recently how many men I had given blow jobs to; my answer was to all of them…… and then I was asked about whether those men had enjoyed the experience and my immediate answer was….. “what’s not to enjoy having a sexual experience that is completely focused on oneself being pleasured”…. This apparently is a typically submissive response…

But back to the quotation….

The erotic is a resource within each of us that lies in a deeply female and spiritual place, firmly rooted in the power of our unexpressed or unrecognised feeling.

Recognising the power of the erotic in our lives can give us the energy to pursue genuine change within our world.
Of course, women so empowered are dangerous.

So we are taught to separate the erotic from the most vital areas of our lives other than sex.
Audre Lorde


This might seem to contradict my previous comments…. But I don’t think it does. At first sight submissives would appear to be powerless, but actually I don’t think they are….

It is our choice to give pleasure to another person…. in return for our own satisfaction, that is true…. But as I understand it, a dominant’s sexual satisfaction depends on and arises out of the effective control of the submissive’s orgasm. This isn’t a licence to deprive or withhold pleasure, it is in fact, just the opposite….. if I don’t have the orgasm then it shows the dominant doesn’t control or drive my arousal.
So how does this suggest that women are empowered, by the power of the erotic? Easy…. We control the knowledge about what turns us on….

We can share that with people who want to know it…… but people who aren’t interested in the knowing won’t ‘hear’ and so won’t control us….they will be unable to cause orgasms.

So where does that leave me now?

I’m actively seeking experiences that will push my envelope; I’m so much clearer now about what will work with me, so I don’t respond to “Hey, Sheila, do you fuck…..suck on this….” messages or adverts asking for “Slaves, Fucktoys or Sluts”. If someone gets nasty or abusive and bullying or is just plain selfish then I pull the plug.

It means that the experiences tend to be tantalisingly few….. but I rationalise that ….. mediocre sex is worse than no sex..

I am conscious that my sexual desires and my fantasies are reaching a deeper, darker level.
I want to be taken to places that normal people don’t go and there are hints that there are other individuals who will satisfy that need.

In this picture I’m very young, hardly formed, and yet I have been seduced and depraved.

This is my story…..

My mentor, as I shall call him, is a much older man that I respect and defer to automatically. How we met is irrelevant, suffice to say he has natural authority that gained my instant obedience.

I want to please him, to give him pleasure… he knows this and uses this desire to place me in situations where I will submit to humiliation in order to gain approval.

Through the journey my arousal has driven my degradation, I seek pain as it gives him pleasure… as an added fillip he makes me promise not to beg him to stop when the pain gets too intense…… I just tell him how much it hurts…..

He likes to see me cry… he rewards me with trinkets when I orgasm being humiliated by his friends……

I long to stop and yet I yearn to be taken to darker depths…… I don’t want to be a slut and yet I long to be his fucktoy.

You want proof that I am a willing partner in your desires....that I desire to push the envelope..... to have visible symbols to show the world.

We start with the cuffs and the waiting, the blindfold and the darkened room....the leather sofa...no soft fabric here.....I am moving to a higher level.

I know there will be pain.....what I don't know is if it will be mental or physical...but it will never be more than I can stand, or want and will be what I ache and beg for....

I quiver gently, the shudders just below the surface. My nipples already hard, my clit pulsing... hoping the wait won't be too long, but knowing that the waiting can be as delicious as what happens after....

I'm getting much closer to total humiliation... I long to be restrained to show that I have handed over 100% control to you.... so other people know that is what I have done and will look only to you for permission to use me.

The urge to beg, to plead, to please is becoming instinctive now...... it has the power to soak me whatever the scenario.

It seems each time I reach a plateau and think that is as far as I will go, another incident or happening pushes me even higher.......

You have made an appointment for some pictures of me for your briefcase. We arrive at the studio and I'm reassured that it is a professional set-up.

You sit in a comfortable chair behind the cameras and lights; I can see you.

You have explained that you want shots with my shoulders bare, so at the photographer's suggestion I have left my bra in the changing room and come out with a piece of dark green velvet fabric swathed around my body.

The photographer fusses, fiddling with my hair. He manages to brush his fingers down my neck and across the top of my breasts

I sit on the chaise and wait for him to finish; I glance at you and smile in response to yours.

The picture taking starts and I strike several poses following instructions, standing and stretching, sitting and then lying on the chaise. Following orders the poses get increasingly wanton, my head back, my hips arched, my legs apart. I enjoy this, safely covered but aroused, understanding that you will know what I look like under the fabric - showing myself to you - a delicious pastime.

You nod to the photographer and he approaches me suggesting that I drop the fabric to my waist for some tasteful topless shots. He slides his fingers across the top of my breasts as he releases the fabric, this makes me shiver as I'm quite aroused now and my skin is very sensitive. He takes more shots, requesting me to hold my breasts and touch my nipples. I comply, putting my head back and closing my eyes, the sensation is wonderful, my nipples harden and my breasts swell.
He tells me to open my eyes and look into the camera and carry on stroking. This makes me shudder as it brings home that you are watching me perform for him.

I'm aware from the edge of my vision that you are nodding at some request from him. He approaches me again and now explains this is time for the more explicit poses. He tells me to stand up and he unwinds the fabric, leaving me standing in my closely fitting silk knickers. His eyes rake my body and he smiles as they reach my mound, there is a damp patch visible; he reaches across and gently caresses the area. I shudder and look at you, you smile and nod so I stand still. This is a test of my obedience. I want to move, but I want to please you more.

He takes more pictures, recording my arousal, revealed through increasingly abandoned positions. Then he stands back looking down on me lying on the chaise.

"Remove your knickers," he says and I do as he says, immediately.

He takes several shots from the camera on the tripod and then kneels by the chaise. He reaches out and caresses my inner thigh with a finger tip. He whispers, "Do you want to cum?" I nod, not trusting my voice. My thighs are soaked, my clit protrudes, I shudder at his voice.

"Do you want me to record your orgasm?" he asks. I nod again, so aroused now I want you to see me cum, I want him to take pictures of me cumming.

I writhe and shudder as he runs his fingers up my thighs to my slit. "Cum on my hand now," he whispers as he pinches and strokes my clit.

I arch and scream as I hurtle over the edge; jolting and squirting over his hands under your gaze. You smile at me as I cum for you.

Trussed and Trust

The fat rope encircles my waist, you are holding me firmly in front of a group of people. My eyes are closed, I don't want to see them watching me, but I'm so aroused by the fact that they are.

You kneel over me, your hard cock close to my face... your knees either side of my breasts

"Open your eyes," you say...

As I do so you brush your cock across my lips, the pre-cum making it slide easily across my mouth. You slide the rope up my back and over my shoulder. You hold the rope and push your cock between my lips and down into my throat. By arching my neck and tipping my head I can take your cock in very deeply; you pull on the rope as you thrust it into my mouth.

As you thrust you talk to me, reminding me of the people watching, reminding me I can't reach to touch myself.

"Do you want someone to stroke you?" you ask, "do you need to be touched? You know what that means, don't you?"

I moan around your hot shaft, my eyes pleading with yours. You pull back your cock, "Say it then..... tell me what you want....."

I gasp, "Please, tell them to touch me, tell them to stroke me, tell them to finger fuck me.......tell them to do what they want......what you want........please......."

You smile as I writhe, sucking harder, arching up towards you as I get more and more excited, my legs spread wide, the wetness acting as a magnet for the touchers, lickers and fuckers........

We stopped on the bottom level of the multi-storey carpark. You chose a bay just under a security camera, near the attendant’s office. It was shadowy but not completely dark.

I shivered, I knew what was coming, what I was expected to do.

Under my full length, pure wool, overcoat I only wore underwear and stilettos. White sheer silk French knickers with lacy frills, matching hold up stockings and a balconet bra that framed rather than hid my breasts.

You helped me out of the car and led me around to the front and pushed me back slightly so I was leaning against the still warm bonnet. You kissed me deeply and squeezed my throat gently; then as you walked away you nudged the wing and the car’s alarm went off.

The car vibrated and I shivered again; would anybody hear, would anybody see, would anybody come to investigate? Then I heard a shout and saw an approaching torch beam. Suddenly the beam caught me and I was held like a deer in the headlights. Knowing I was seen but not able to see galvanised my arousal. I undid the buttons of the coat and slid the shoulders down my arms a little way, so the dark fabric contrasted against my skin. The light reflected off my skin as I arched my back and ran my hands over my breasts, I wanted to show him how beautiful I was, how aroused. My nipples were rock hard as I ran my hands over them; my slit oozed juice as I pulled the fabric tight.

I heard a kind of growly sound, the noise you sometimes make in your throat when you want to fuck me. This set me off…I whispered, “Fuck me, please fuck me!” and let the coat slide to the floor as I leaned further back over the bonnet and spread my legs.

I closed my eyes and felt a hand on my shoulder and another between my legs, tearing off my knickers. I shuddered and moaned as I was flipped over and bent over the bonnet.

I felt pressure on my slit as he pushed his cock just inside my vagina. He paused and groaned as my muscles contracted against the hot head. I pictured you looking at me and imagined I was a butterfly being pinned to a board, his cock thrusting me against the bonnet. I knew this image would be hardening your cock as you softly stroked it while watching me.
This is turn aroused me still further, I arched my back and thrust myself backwards deeper onto his cock.
“I want to cum, make me cum,” I begged.
His response was to thrust harder and slide his hand around my hips under my slit. His movements pushed my clit against his hand and I hit top dead centre and squealed as my vaginal muscles jolted and contacted against his cock. A couple of thrusts more and I collapsed shuddering and twitching on the bonnet, juice squirting everywhere. I felt him withdraw and move away and then you were there. You gently turned me over and wrapped me in my coat. I could sense your arousal and I whimpered, I was ready to be taken again….. and you took me to heaven, in that carpark…there and then….

Increasingly I find shafts of light in understanding my submissiveness. This image shows how I feel right now.

A solid silver bangle shows how I’m shackled by my sexuality to behaving submissively. It is a constant reminder, as if I needed one….. it bangs on the shower door when I reach for the soap, it feels warm to the touch if my other hand brushes my wrist when I pull down my sleeve.

I see men noticing it and then they seem to look at me speculatively; women just smile knowingly and I smile back. They will know, if they are as deeply submissive as I, that any dominant person regardless of their gender will have the trigger to control me.

And what I can be controlled to do seems to be getting more natural…. I don’t need to be made to do anything anymore… I seem to want to ……. It seems that I might be initiating things….. but I can’t be…. that’s not how submissiveness works.

So the impetus for me comes from a thought, a wish, a remark, a comment……

The latest idea….. I’m in a wine bar, sitting on a high stool, chatting to the person serving. I’m sipping a glass of cold white wine. A palm brushes my throat from behind and I’m drawn back into your body. I lean back against you, knowing you will balance me

You breathe in my ear as you cup my throat in your hand. You whisper, “Relax!” and I lean further into your chest, completely surrendering my support to you.
You run your other hand up my thigh and my legs drift apart as the sensation communicates itself to my core. The wrap around skirt I’m wearing parts and the two sides drop away to reveal my legs and knickers. There is a rustle of interest around us as people notice what I’m revealing and whisper to draw others’ attention.

You slip your fingers under the elastic of my knickers and run the tips along the exposed flesh of my tummy. My legs spread further, this is such a delicious feeling. You gently reach down and pull aside my knickers to reveal my sex. I see people looking and this makes me shudder and shudder and moan.
“Taste yourself,” you whisper. I slip two fingers fully into my slit and put them, dripping, into my mouth. There is a buzz of anticipation and that pushes me further towards the edge.

I murmur, “Please, please?” You grip my throat a little more firmly and that is the answer to my request. I groan and arch my hips up to meet my fingers. I rub my clit, slowly at first and then faster, spurred on by the gathering crowd of spectators, inching ever closer.

You hold me firmly as I shudder and jolt, making sure I stay on the stool. You kiss me softly behind the ear and this finally helps me cum. I whimper as my orgasm hits and the juice floods out onto the seat between my legs.

As the shudders lessen you swing my seat around and enfold me in your arms and gentle me to your chest. I shiver and burrow closer, safe and released at last.

We are out for the evening and just before we go into the bar you stop. We pause in a doorway and you slip your hand around my throat. Your hand grips me firmly but my airflow is not impeded.

I breathe faster; you can feel this as I’m being held against you. You whisper a question in my ear, “How do you feel?”

Before I can answer I am overwhelmed with emotion, I shiver and tears roll down my cheeks.

I sob my answer, “Safe, I feel so safe….”

And then I shudder and groan.. I have been hit by the most amazing arousal and my knickers are instantly soaked. I arch back against you .

You whisper again, “Yes, feel it, go with it…….”



…………………..Being submissive is a mind blowing roller coaster ride

I know that I should have been more attentive to your messages…… but today I was a bit distracted and now I know that I may have displeased you.

If I’m honest, I’m rather aroused by the thought that you might walk through the door at any moment and ask me to hand you the cane. Part of me desires contact… any contact… not that I want to be beaten, but even being struck is having attention paid to me.

But part of me wants to be hurt,

to jump at the shock of the welts, to experience the sting of broken skin;

to feel the softness of your tongue gathering the blood, the silken caress of the healing balm;

to be gentled after the punishment and to be taken to screaming orgasm….

You have told me to sit in the chair by the window. I have my eyes closed. I hear the door open and close and I strain to work out how many people have entered the room.

Is it you or someone else?

No sounds except gentle breathing. I shudder as I feel breath above my breasts, the air as it cools stiffens my nipples.

I shift on the chair, my legs opening involuntarily as I feel finger nails running down my breasts. My nipples are pinched gently and then harder, that makes me moan slightly as I shudder again.

Is it you or someone else?

The touching continues, down across my tummy, brushing my mound and stroking my inner thighs. I arch up my hips to increase the sensation.

I feel my hair being lifted off my neck and a tongue gently caress the skin behind my ear. The tongue carries on down my neck and kisses me at the point where my neck meets the middle of my chest.

I inhale and can smell….. a very faint trace… is it eau de toilette, soap…. Not sure, in a way that makes it more arousing… Is it you, or are you just watching?

I moan, I need to be stroked now….my sex is soaking, literally… I whimper and plead…”Please, please, fuck me,” I beg.

My pleading is ignored…having to beg increases my arousal. I can feel the juice oozing between my labia and onto the chair.

I feel my leg being pinched hard….. I twitch… it means I shouldn’t be begging as that is impolite and sluttish.

The stroking continues, always shying away from my sex at the last minute. I’m so aroused and frustrated now that I shudder continuously.

An unfamiliar voice whispers, “You have to cum, don’t you?” I whimper in reply. Again a whisper, “Do you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes,” I whisper in response… shuddering, so humiliated that I have been begging a complete stranger.

Again the voice questions……. “Even though I might be filming you for my friends?”

“Yes,” I groan, “oh yes.”

I wish you would say something…… I have to know I please you….

Are you there or am I alone with the stranger?

I’m waiting, I’m not allowed to look to see if you are coming as that is against the rules.

I never know when you will arrive, I wait here as it is less painful than trying to distract myself.

I’m aroused, I aways am if I think you are coming. My nipples ache, I press my legs together to divert my mind from focusing on how wet I’m getting.

When you arrive I will leave the window to stand in front of you. You sit and watch me. You ask me to touch myself and I gently scratch my nipples and this makes me moan. I run my fingernails down my tummy and slip a finger into my slit.

I’m not allowed to touch my clit until you give permission, you nod and I sigh. I gently rub my clit, you look at me closely to see how wet I’m getting. Your close attention makes me shudder. You tell me to rub my clit and stroke my breasts…… it feels so good and I can’t help groaning.

As you watch I get really aroused, I’m so close, I want to cum. I whimper…..

You beckon and I approach and I know you want me to sit on your lap. You put your arm around me and kiss my neck softly, I writhe on your thighs. You twist my nipples just a little harder than usual and that makes me shudder. You slip a couple of fingers up my vagina, with no preamble, and I immediately convulse on them.

You whisper in my ear, “Cum now, writhe on my fingers, let me feel you.” That is the trigger that sends me over the edge……