The Handcuffs (and the nails!)

Well a few days passed, and I was mature as ever, playing the ignoring game to keep The Barmaid interested in me, one day it will bite me in the ass, but not this time. One night after a less than busy shift serving bitter to the old boys in the local, The Barmaid and I ended up back at her place, and whilst we were getting down to a cuddle and kiss on top of the duvet, she asked if I had ever tried handcuffs before. Now I am normally the honest sort, but I told a little white lie here and said something along the lines of 'no, but i've always wanted to'. Before you could say 'liar' I was cuffed to her bed frame, but then she seemed to go a little shy, and just continued the kissing and cuddling (well she cuddled). Then I felt a searing pain down my back as she dragged her nails down my spine, drawing blood with more than one nail. There is pain, and pain, and this was the latter. I yelped and noticed a rather sadistic smile on the face of The Barmaid. She then took my clothes off and climbed on top of me, which was pleasant and numbed the pain, at least until she began scratching my chest and thighs.

Being polite I kept my whines to a minimum and thankfully I still managed a decent job, the sex satisfying us both. She then released me and noticed that she had drawn blood, but rather than any form of apology she continued to smile.

For the sake of my skin the experience of The Barmaid was a one off, but in hindsight was quite tame compared to The Barmaid's Friend, which shall be either the last post of 2008 or the first of 2009.

Happy New Year to my few fans/readers/loonies.

Back Down with a Bump

After all the fun of uni, it was back to small town boredom once the pot had ran dry. The one saving grace of this was that my bar job introduced me to many new potential kinky young (and older) ladies. In the first few weeks back home working in the bar I began to flirt with a colleague of mine, who for the sake of argument we can call "The Barmaid" - hardly original but it does the job. The Barmaid was aged 18 at the time, a bit of a coup for an aging postgraduate such as yours truly. The flirting culminated in a drunken kiss in one of the local nightspots of the home town, and she invited me back to her house. She had a bonkers living arrangement, but to cut a long story short, lived in her mothers home by herself.

We went straight upstairs and continued the kissing, when I noticed a set of steel handcuffs on the bedside table. "We can save those for another time" she wispered in my ear and I began to wonder if I had a sixth sense for finding these sort of girls, or whether I was just damn lucky. We proceeded to have some rather vigorous sex, and my performace was notable for its longevity, aided more through Peroni than prowess.

The handcuffs did get their turn in the non too distant future, but thats a tale for another day.

Back Home

Despite hanging on to student life a few months longer than I should have (through choice, not resits), eventually I had to bow to the inevitable and return back to my roots up north. My slush fund had run dry, and hanging on to the coat tails of friends doing four year courses was becoming too expensive. I returned home to live with the parents, and put my three years studying to good use by getting myself a bar job. In hindsight, this was a great move, opening up a whole new market of ladies! The names of forthcoming chapters suggest why; "The Barmaid", "The Barmaid's Friend" and so on.

The Last Fruits of Uni (delayed just a little!)

Well after an eternity away from the blogging world, I thought I best put my two fans out of their collective misery and finish the story.

After she had shown her her pvc thong under her jeans, my pulse was set racing, and I convinced her that the drinks in the local boozer were too expensive, and that I had better options at my house. We walked the short distance to my humble abode, making the obligitory small talk, and once we arrived I cracked open a bottle of house white. She then showed me her bra strap, again shiny black PVC, which brought a smile to my face and stiring down below. We then adjourned to the bedroom, and lay down on the bed, but for once in my life I was hit by an attack of shyness, and we just continued to talk rather than indulge in anything of a deviant nature.

We both realised that the moment had passed, and rather than try to conjure something up, just continued to talk, chill and not do anything naughty. After 45 mintues or so the young lady went on her way, and I realised that the opportunity had passed. She later text me saying that she was shy but had really wanted to play, a feeling with I shared with her. I am not quite sure what had prevented us from playing, perhaps the brought daylight lack of alcohol situation that had been a precursor for some of the earlier experiences. We did try to arrange another rendezvous but we couldn't find a mutually agreeable time slot and eventually we fell out of contact. Another one that got away...

The Last Fruits Of Uni

As my time at uni drew to an end, I began speaking to yet another lady through the wonderful medium of the www. This girl was 18, and at the time I was knocking on a bit, at the grand old age of 21. Her name on the internet chat room where we met was something along the lines of 'bondage_fairy', so once again, being the polite soul I am, I introduced myself, and as it was a local chatroom I knew she couldn't be too far away. As it turned out, she lived in a village about four miles from where I was living at the time, which was a result.

We spoke a few times online, and exchanged a few texts as well. We also exchanged photos, and agreed that we didn't find each other totally hideous, and that we should perhaps meet up. We arranged to meet in a pub near the cricket ground where I lived, and with me being a student and her at college, we soon found a mutally agreeable time in our less than busy schedules. Whilst we chatted online she told me that she had a collection of boots, and also some PVC underwear. I challenged her to wear them when she came to meet me, not expecting her to of course. We outside the pub, and once the nervy introductions were out the way, we headed inside for a drink. She was a very attractive girl, long brown straight hair, quite tall, and from the look of it, wearing knee high boots under her jeans. We had the obligitory 5 minute small talk about the weather, drinks, cricket and anything else we could think of, before I asked if she had on the aforementioned pvc underwear. She gave me a cheeky smile and replied "of course".
To be continued soon, I promise.

How Do I Put This The PC Way? BBW?

Not long after the failed meeting with the older woman from Yahoo Chat, I began talking to another female on the Lycos website (which shows how long ago it was as I am pretty sure it is long gone). She described herself as 'curvy', and after quite a bit of flirting, she sent me a photograph. She was a pretty girl, and was indeed curvy. I think the term she used was BBW, which at the time meant nothing to me, but I now know stands for Big Beautiful Woman.

We chatted and exchanged numbers, so we could continue to chat once I had been kicked out of the uni computer room, but after a while things went a little quiet. I hadn't heard from her in a couple of weeks, when one night my phone started ringing and her name flashed up on the display. We hadn't spoke before, so I was a little nervous (despite all this I am still the shy type!), but I answered and we had a brief chat. She had been out and was a little drunk, and rather suggestive on the phone. We had never really spoken about the kinky stuff either on text or online, but she came right out and told me that she had a spanking fantasy that she wanted to live out with a near stranger, namely me. I was a little apprehensive, but my curiousity got the better of me, and ten minutes later I was in a taxi to her house, which was only four miles from mine. Once I arrived I had an attack of the nerves more so than normal, but it didn't stop me knocking on the door.

I was invited in and we had a few minutes nervy small talk, before she announced that she wanted me in her room 'quick smart'. I walked up the stairs and noticed that she already had four sets of handcuffs secured to her bed. She began to take my clothes off and before I knew it, I was lying naked, face down on her bed with my arms and legs spread and cuffed to the bed. I had a thought that I really didn't know this woman at all and to use the old cliche, she could have been an axe murderer. Thankfully she wasn't, as I am here to tell the tale, but she gave me such a spanking on my bottom that she could well have been a whip/hairbrush/belt murderer. It was a bit of a strange experience, and one I never felt totally comfortable with (as if I was going to feel comfortable getting my behind whacked!). It turned out that her spanking fantasy was just that, a fantasy about spanking, as once she had finished turning my bum rosy red, she untied me and send me on my way.

This was rather abrupt, and although I went with no expectations, to be bundled out of the door as I was putting my shoes on was a little strange. It transpires that she had a 'freak out' moment as she was doing it, and decided to call it off, which I was fine with, once I knew that I hadn't done something wrong, or screamed to loud etc.

All in all, this was one of the less successful of my ventures.

What Do You Think?

I am not sure if anyone is even reading this, but I am going to continue with my ramblings. This is just a quick note to say that all/any feedback is welcome, and if anyone has any questions or suggestions, please feel free to get in touch.

At This Point

After the night with Pretty Blonde Girl I was very much confirmed as a sexual submissive. This I already knew, so quite why this experience had such a defining aspect to me I was unsure of. I just remember that every time I thought of me gagged and tied up, it set my pulse racing.

A slight disappointment was when I rang Pretty Blonde Girl, she informed me that she had started seeing her ex again, so future encounters were not on the menu for the time being. She did use the phrase for the time being, as if to leave me hanging on.

I got over this and began to explore further the world of BDSM, for which I mainly used the university computers, which in hindsight was a tad risky, but thankfully before the days of firewalls and useage monitoring. It was during this time that I posted my first submissive 'personal' ad. I can't recall the exact wording, but the gist was about little old me, my experiences so far and what I would like to try. I logged on a few days afterwards, expecting a bulging mailbox from Mistresses and Dominants throughout the UK, but was greeted with the empty sign, so I logged off, a little disappointed.

I began using chatrooms as well, and whilst on Yahoo Chat I began talking to a slightly older woman who lived about thirty miles away from where I was based. She told me she was recently divorced and had a few fantasies that she had wanted to fulfil, one of which was to be Dominant to a male sub. Again, being the kind chap I am, I volunteered my services, and after quite a while conversing in online chat and email, we arranged to meet. She told me that she had bought a PVC catsuit for the occasion, and also had a good idea of the things she wanted to try. They sounded very agreeable, so I borded the train for the 20 minute ride filled with anticipation and the usual bout of trepidation. I arrived at the station and stood where I was instructed, waiting for her to toot or walk over, but nothing happened. I waited a good hour before trudging back in to the station and boarded a train home, more than a little peed off at my wasted journey. When I returned there was an email waiting for me saying that she was in the car park, and wanted to shout me over but she lost her nerve. She did however say I looked cute, and being the vain chap I am, that softened the blow a little.

I guess that one wasn't to be.

The Answer to What Happened Next

I was beginning to think of how I had ended up in this position from a nightclub bar less than 45 minutes earlier. I also wondered what would have happened if I wasn’t game for such shenanigans. I was hardly in a position to protest, ball gagged and handcuffed. Thankfully these things didn’t matter as I was very game and having a great time. Pretty Blonde Girl eased off with the riding crop, and walked round from behind me and sat herself down on the bed. “Are we having fun?” she asked me, more of a rhetorical question due to the 3 inch red ball in my mouth. I muffled a response in the positive, but it was inaudible. She then yanked at the blindfold, and once my eyes had adjusted to the light, I could see that she had changed outfits. She was wearing the same boots but now had a black PVC corset style dress on, similar to the one worn by Angelina Jolie in Mr and Mrs Smith. She looked stunning, her previously tied up hair now falling over her shoulders, adding to her looks.

“You are being such a good boy I think you deserve a treat” she said, her voice softening from the earlier sternness. I tried to reply, but again the ball muffled any attempt to speak. “Part of me wants to take the gag off so you can get your tongue working, but it’s the first time I’ve used it on anyone, so I think I will leave it on for now”. I felt honoured, her first gagged sub, what a proud moment! She unlocked the handcuffs on my wrists, which was a relief as my shoulders were starting to ache. My freedom was short-lived however, and less than a minute later I was bound to her bed frame, arms and legs splayed apart in a star shape, minus my boxers. For the first time I felt totally vulnerable, and as with earlier experiences, it was a feeling I liked. She climbed on top of me and began to play with herself with one hand, with her other stroking my already hard cock. No pun intended, but I was gagging for her, I wanted it so bad, and she knew. I think she was the same, but wasn’t going to give it up that easily. I looked up at her in all her glory, her slender frame made even more petit crammed in to the corset. A few more minutes passed with her playing with us both before she shuffled around a little and lowered herself on to me. The feeling was so good, and she just held it there without moving. I raised my hips a little to move further inside, and was rewarded with a slap across the thigh and to be told that I was not the one to do the moving.

She began to ride up and down, and keeping still was very difficult. I felt the press of the thigh high boots against my skin, and longed for her breasts to fall out of the top, which alas never happened. The gag was becoming uncomfortable, but it wasn’t my place to complain, and I liked the way it made me feel. She sped up, leaning forward and grabbing the metal headboard with her hands for leverage. I could feel I was close to orgasm, but thankfully it sounded as if she was too. Just as I began to cum, she let go of the headboard and leant right back, which intensified the feeling. “Wow, that was fun she said”, and I nodded in full agreement. She leant forward and removed the gag, but left me tied up as we spoke about it. She told me that she had held back from some of the things she wanted to do so as not to freak me out too much. I told her that I loved it, and that I had a thing for being submissive like that, which brought a smile to her face. “I think we will be seeing each other again then young man” to which I was finally able to reply verbally, with a definite yes.

I stayed over at Pretty Blonde Girl’s house, and in the morning set on the much vaunted ‘walk of shame’, however this was different to most, as rather than looking like someone walking home dressed in their going out clothes from the night before, I looked like an escapee from a nut house in my dressing gown and slippers. Thankfully I wasn’t alone in having to make this walk, passing a couple of young girls in nighties, a lad in some striped pyjamas and best of all, another woman in a PVC catsuit, who I must have missed in the club. As I said earlier, the joys of student fancy dress.

So What Happened Next (Next)

Sorry about the extended break, computer troubles beyond belief. I'm back now, so hope my weak internet holds out long enough to allow more posts.

So to carry on from where I left off ages ago. Pretty Blonde Girl and I adjourned to a taxi outside the night club, looking a rather odd pairing, her in the PVC catsuit and myself in a dressing gown and slippers. I was rather excited to be heading home with this very attractive young lady, regardless of her attire, although it was a welcome bonus. "Do you often go home with PVC clad girls?" she asked me, with a twinkle of deviousness in her eye. My less than witty reply was "Not as often as I'd like to", which brought a smile from her. All the while in the taxi she had her boots parked on my legs, and they looked amazing on her, tight and perfectly shiney.

The journey did not last long at all, probably walkable in normal attire, but it was cold and needs must. I must admit to feeling a little nervous, not sure if it was kinky stuff on the menu, or a case of me misreading the signs. This doubt was soon laid to rest when she told me that once we got indoors I was to do exactly as she said. Despite trying to play it cool, this brought a smile to my face that I was unable to hide.

After being led up the tight stairs to her third floor bedroom, I was bundled in to her bedroom, which was very nice for a student abode, none of the usual tacky poster rubbish and mess, but a well turned out modern looking room complete with a steel framed bed, ideal for tying! I sat on the bed, and she looked at me again with that twinkle in her eye. "I am guessing you have realised that I like things a bit different in the bedroom department" she said whilst walking toward me. I nodded, not speaking, incase it got me in to trouble. "Are you game for it?" she asked, which brought another nod. She then straddled me on the bed, and from somewhere she produced a blindfold which was placed over my eyes and tied tight enough for me to know who was in charge. "Don't move" she said, sounding more stern with each passing minute. I heard the unzipping and removal of her catsuit and boots, which disappointed me somewhat, but then I heard more zipping and the distinctive sound of PVC stretching, which more than compensated for my initial feelings.

I then heard her heels pacing over the hard wood flooring back in my direction, raising my anticipation. She stood me up and told me to strip to my underwear, which I did fairly swiftly, not feeling at my most alluring in my dressing gown. Thankfully taking a dressing gown off blindfolded is still quite simple. Then just as I was about to announce the task as complete, I felt her grab the back of my head and prise open my mouth. She forced what I now know to be a red ball gag in to my mouth and secured it tight with straps that went over the top of my head as well as round over my ears. At that moment I realised just how kinky Pretty Blonde Girl was going to be, and I must that despite a little trepidation, I liked it. She whispered in my ear "that will stop any unwanted noise from you boy", with the emphasis placed on "boy". She then forced me to my knees and bent me over the bed and handcuffed my wrists together with leather padded cuffs, another sign of her level of interest. I then felt a gentle tap on my bottom, although I was unsure what it was, I guessed at a riding crop or something similar (a good guess). This began to get harder and more frequent, on my bottom. She then pulled down my boxer shorts and continued, getting even harder.

To be continued (soon I promise)

So What Happend Next?

After a year or so of university, Posh Brunette Girl and I went our seperate ways, all very amicable I must say, but still tinged with a little sadness.

Needless to say that this was when I began to 'play the field' as it were. It was the first prolonged spell of being single since becoming sexually active. Second year uni was a mad year, going out six nights a week practically every week, although I regined it in to four or five nights a week during exam time. Most weekend nights were at the student union (safest place for scruffy student types), and often I managed to impress a young lady enough with my S Club dance routine or ability to drink copious amounts of cheap alcopops to get myself an end of night kiss, which on a few occasions resulted in a few steps further.

One of the joys of being a student is the fact that fancy dress nights are a regular occurance, which translates to the female fraternity wearing very revealing outfits whilst the blokes used it as an excuse to dodge dresscodes through town. One night the theme was something along the lines of Pyjamma Party versus Bedroom Bondage. Despite my relative experience in the bondage department, I had nothing to wear for such a party, and if I did I can't imagine I would have outted myself as a kinky pervert! However, I wasn't going to miss out on this night out, so I donned my red towling dressing gown and best Homer Simpson slippers and walked through the November snow to the nightclub that was hosting the event, along with a few similarly attired friends (plus one in spiderman PJ's). On entering the club fashionably late (of course), we found it to be 80/20 split in favour of the pyjamma option. However, there was still a sizable number of young ladies attired in PVC, leather etc, which was very pleasing on the eye. The night progressed as normal, lots of silly drinks and crap dancing until when at the bar I began talking to a pretty blonde girl who was decked out in a PVC catsuit that I think I recognised from my bumbling visit to Ann Summers. I cheekily asked her if she wore that outfit often, to which she replied "not enough".

This grabbed my attention straight away, and I even stretched my tight student budget to buy her a glass of potent local brew cocktail that looked like nuclear waste. We adjourned to a table and continued the flirty small talk. This is when I noticed she had thigh high boots over the catsuit, which got me going even more. I asked her where she had hired the costume from, and her answer left me almost speechless. "Oh this, this was in my wardrobe, I have loads more outfits like this, just wearing this one to keep warm between pubs". It appeared that this young lady had more than a passing interest in the wonderful fetish world. I told her I'd like to see more of her collection, and she whispered in my ear that I could as long as I did as I was told.

to be continued...

Submission

So after managing to categorise my feelings and exploring the wonderful world of the internet, things calmed down somewhat. Posh Brunette Girl and I continued to date, and although we had the occasional kinky session, it was all very samey, her dressing up in her black PVC bra and thong, some foreplay and then on to the sex. Whilst this was all good fun, as we were in a happy relationship and still very attracted to each other, I knew deep down that there was so much more kinky stuff that I wanted to try.

One late night after a few beverages of the alcoholic variety, our conversation drifted on to sexual fantasies. Posh Brunette Girl said that she didn’t really have any of sorts, although she did like the idea of dressing up as a naughty schoolgirl (this was about the time Ms Spears had burst on to the scene in her uniform). Needless to say being the caring partner that I was, the school uniform idea was tried, and enjoyed by both parties. When it came to me, I realised although I knew my fantasy was playing a submissive role to a dominant female, I hadn’t thought through an actual scenario I would like to try. I told Posh Brunette Girl that I liked the idea of being a sex slave (clichéd I know), being told what to do, being talked down to and being punished if I didn’t do things correctly. Being the top girl she was, she said that we could try it sometime and see how things went.

The following evening she came over to my place in a long black jacket, and her black knee high boots (finally persuaded that they would be a sound investment, although think the purchase was more to do with the fashion of the time than my wittering). She strode in to my room, and from nowhere asked me “if I was going to be a good boy for my Mistress”. After a second of confusion, I agreed that I would be, and she unbuttoned her jacket to reveal the fact she was wearing only her PVC underwear and the black leather boots. This was the first time I had seen the boots worn ‘this way’, and boy it looked good. She then said that I was to do exactly as I was told, or else I would be in trouble. I was ordered to strip to my boxers, and get on my knees. I managed this feat in record time, and was soon kneeling before her. “You must address me as Mistress at all times” I was instructed, and I was in no mood to argue. She then ordered me to kiss her boots from heel to top. I was taken back by this, but she then warned me not to make her ask twice. I could see that she was enjoying her dominant role, and that she had obviously done some research, although how and where still remains a mystery. Quite why I enjoyed being made to kiss her boots so much I do not know, maybe the psychology of being made to kiss her lowest part made me feel more submissive, maybe I am just odd, who knows. Once I had completed my boot duties, I was ordered over to the bed, and Posh Brunette Girl produced two purple ribbons from her bag. Less than a minute later I was secured to the headboard, arms apart, feeling rather vulnerable. This vulnerability was multiplied when Posh Brunette Girl put on her coat and left the room, going downstairs to have a drink and sit and chat with my housemates for a few moments. The feeling of having no control at all was both scary and exciting, not knowing at all when she was coming back, assuming she was. It must have only been ten minutes, but it seemed an eternity before she strolled back in, taking off her coat and climbing over me on the bed.

“Are you ready to please your Mistress” she whispered in my ear, to which I nodded vigorously. She then inched up the bed until her PVC thong was an inch away from my mouth. She pulled it to one side and I knew that I best get my tongue working. I kissed and licked away, ignoring the cramps in my mouth, not wanting to disappoint. After fifteen minutes or so Posh Brunette Girl climbed off me, removed her thong and then made good use of the bulge in my boxer shorts. It was fast and intense, the best we had experienced so far. We both finished at the same point, more through luck than judgment I am sure, but it felt so good. Posh Brunette Girl practically collapsed on top of me, and due to the fact that the ribbons had held firm, I was going nowhere either.

Once we had tidied ourselves up, we got round to the inevitable discussion of ‘how was it for you’. I wasn’t lying when I said it was the best ever, the feeling of no control, of being used, of being told what to do all really pressed my buttons. It later transpired that although she enjoyed the outcome, the playing the ‘Mistress’ role didn’t do all that much for Posh Brunette Girl, but she had no qualms about doing it again as she could see how much little old me enjoyed it.

Realisation

After the first encouner with Posh Brunette Girl dressed in her black PVC underwear, I knew that it had triggered something within me. Being straddled and basically told what to do by a female playing a dominant role had really got me going. Looking back, it was something I always liked the idea of, but it was never clear exactly what that idea was in my head. This experience had really wet my appetite, and I began to explore further. Thankfully the www was in its earlier days, so I somehow managed to use the university computers without any alarm bells going off.

I began to visit what could only be described as fetish websites. I read up on the subject, went to chat rooms, emailed folks and even joined some web groups.

After not too much deliberation, I had ascertained that I was sexually submissive. Not too much of a shock, but at least now my feelings had a label of sorts.

Posh Brunette Girl

It was only the Saturday after Blonde Indie Chick and I had gone our separate ways, and yes, I did feel a little guilty, and a little on the rebound, but Posh Brunette Girl was stunning, she was the talk of the school, and she had ended up coming home with little old me. She spent the night in my rather cosy single bed, but all we did was a kiss and a grope, nothing more (I’m a good boy me!). The next morning it wasn’t awkward, as we were in the position of being friends before hand.

She went on her way and nothing was said about it. I didn’t see her for a week as it was Easter, and we had no contact either, as it was before the days of mobile phones (how we coped I don’t know). The Friday evening we all met en masse in the local hostelry that served us seventeen year olds. Posh Brunette Girl was there, looking as fine as ever, and I resisted the temptation to ignore her all night, deciding instead to splash some of my pocket money and offer to buy her a drink, an offer she accepted. We had a further chat and a cheeky kiss outside the pub, before she went home and in my wisdom I went to the local cheesy nightclub. Imagine my surprise when she rang me the next day. Bear in mind this was the era of the house phone, no hiding in your room, no texting, it was whispers so the parents couldn’t make out what was being said. She asked me if I fancied a wander round town that afternoon. After cancelling my trip to the local car park to play footy with the lads, I went in to town and met Posh Brunette Girl for an orange juice and wander round. We kissed again, and this is when we became an ‘item’. Nothing was ever said to confirm this, it was just a situation where it was assumed, and we both were happy with that.

I was very keen on Posh Brunette Girl , and after a couple of weeks we were getting down to the things young couples do. This continued until the summer, when it transpired that we had both applied to go to the same city to study at university. Posh Brunette Girl being the genius she is went to the red brick uni, and yours truly went to the ex polytechnic, although one of the better ones (honest). We decided that we would continue our relationship when we moved, and as luck would have it, we were only a couple of miles apart at uni, closer in fact than we lived at home. In about the third week we were having a walk around town, a much bigger town that we were used to, and out of curiosity, she suggested we popped in to that bastion of clichés, Ann Summers. This was a first for me (I don’t count a visit to a sex shop in Soho after nine hours drinking), and I played the roll of the nervous male partner to the tee. Posh Brunette Girl turned around and asked me if there were any outfits I would like to see her in. I raised my eyes up from the floor I had been starring out since arrival, and noticed a black PVC bra and thong set. I mumbled and pointed toward that, and too my surprise, she went and picked them off the hanger and bought them there and then. Obviously she was putting her student loan to good use. We then rushed back to the halls of residence, where I was told to wait outside until I received a phone call (we had both ventured in to the murky world of mobile phones by this point). The call eventually came, and I walked along to her room and knocked. She dragged me in quickly, and was stood there in her 32D glory in the black PVC underwear, looking mighty fine. Once I had popped my eyes in, I was dragged on to the bed and straddled. She said “if I am wearing this outfit then I guess I am the one in control”, to which I nodded. She tore my clothes off and she went on top for the first time, removing the thong (it helps) but keeping the shiny bra on. She looked so good, and the PVC was definitely a turn on for me.

Afterwards she admitted to being a little nervous, but definitely enjoying the ‘naughty feeling’ of wearing it. I told her how good she looked in it, and also how I enjoyed her taking the lead. It was at this point she said something along the lines of “well if we both enjoyed it, I guess there is more room for experimentation”. Told you she was a clever girl!

Not All Plain Sailing

Things moved on with Blonde Indie Chick, we got very close over the next few months. The bedroom activities remained great and the handcuffs had a couple more outings that were equally as enjoyable as the Boxing Day experience. This had certainly wetted my appetite for all things kinky. I had realised by this time that one of my fetishes was for girls in ‘knee high boots’, or FMBs as they were known, preferably black leather ones. How this interest developed I do not know, but it did (and has stuck since). However these were not for Blonde Indie Chick, not really going with the indie chick image I guess. However, it was only a small issue, and how could I miss what I hadn’t had eh?

Totally unrelated to the FMB thing, I then done a typical male thing (I like to put it down to my young age) and got freaked by the whole relationship situation, cooling things off a little. Blonde Indie Chick wasn’t overly keen on this, and we went our separate ways.

To console myself, I done the decent thing and went out clubbing for a friend of a friends birthday, and a female friend of mine, who we shall introduce as Posh Brunette Girl, became slightly more than a female ‘friend’.

So The Obvious Thing To Do

..so the obvious thing to do when Blonde Indie Chick and I found ourselves home along on Boxing Day was to give the handcuffs a whirl. It was clichéd beyond belief, but what the hell, we were seventeen and could do what we wanted. After a bottle of wine shared for the obligatory dutch courage, we adjourned to the bedroom, and indulged a little kissing and wandering hands. Out of the blue, Blonde Indie Chick reached under the bed and produced the shiny silver steeled handcuffs. We both had a nervous moment, but it lasted nanoseconds, and before I know it, Blonde Indie Chick had whacked the handcuffs on my wrists, wrapped round her ideally designed steel poled headboard. The moment of realisation that I was trapped, and Blonde Indie Chick could be an axe crazed loony only lasted seconds, but it felt good (being trapped, not the axe loony part).

Things progressed from there, with Blonde Indie Chick soon getting down to her underwear, and taking my kit off as well, at this point learning it is impossible to remove a t-shirt when handcuffed to a bed. I was really enjoying the buzz of having no control, with Blonde Indie Chick controlling the speed, the angles. She was also enjoying herself (so it sounded), and we continued until I couldn’t hold it in anymore, and I enjoyed what seemed like a much stronger orgasm than normal. Once I regained my composure, Blonde Indie Chick uncuffed me, and suggested it was her turn to try them on for size.

After waiting a while (I will make no claim to be some marathon love machine, not yet anyway!), I returned the favour, handcuffing Blonde Indie Chick to the bedposts, and began to tease her, kissing her all over, slowly and softly. One thing lead to another, until neither of us could wait anymore, and I slid inside her. Revenge this time was a dish served warm, with me controlling the speed, the angles and the positions. It felt much better than our previous encounters, much more intense and longer lasting, and I was later told that this was her first ‘full, proper, real’ orgasm, which I took as a compliment at the time, but now wonder what was going on beforehand!

Where It All Began

Along with every other teenage boy, the journey of discovery was a fraught one. Fumbles in the woods, a grope at a house party after too much cider and a sloppy kiss after a youth club disco were all huge achievements at that tender age. It was a nervy time, never knowing if you were 'doing it right' or making an arse of yourself. I reached sixteen without making too much of an arse of myself, and low and behold, got my first serious girlfriend.

To protect the innocent parties, I won't use real names, so we'll call her Blonde Indie Chick (BIC), due to her hair colour, music taste and chromosomes. To put the time in to perspective, it was the summer of Euro 96', the summer of Oasis, and the monster summer that lasts forever after doing GCSEs.

Throughout this summer, Blonde Indie Chick and I had an on/off relationship, mainly due to me being a plum and thinking the 'ignorant/hard to get' act was a good move. However, by the end of the summer (the day after my 17th birthday), the momentus event occured, and we both no longer could lay claim to the world of viginity. Like most, it was rushed, uncomfortable, short. Unlike most, it was also in a room with two people asleep and done on an armchair. Needless to say, we decided there had to be more to it than that, so practiced some more, and to our relief, it did get much better.

We remained together until Christmas, and as a result of a jokey drunken conversation, Blonde Indie Chick bought me some handcuffs for my stocking...

The Difficult First Post

I can imagine everyone who writes a blog starts with the same thoughts and problems, namely 'where the hell do I start'. I am going to use this space to tell the tale of my sexual life from the beginning, with the focus on the alternative/kinky/fetish (whatever you want to call it) aspects.

Ever since I can remember I liked the idea of not being in control in a sexual situation. Looking back now, I can see I always had a fetish for girls in what I probably called at the time 'bondage-style clothing', black leather, knee high boots etc. However, at this time I had no idea what these interests would lead to, and in all fairness, if you told me at sixteen years old some of the things I would have tried in the forthcoming ten years, I would probably have reported you to the police.

This blog will chronicle my fall in to what a friend would call 'deviancy', and because I can't find a better word I will have to agree with her.

Happy reading.