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.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
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!
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’.
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!
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!
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
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...
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.
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.
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