Sex in the office: a fantasy

The first time we met, he came across as an arrogant asshole. I was forewarned that he may be a bit annoying during the meeting, so I was already predisposed to expect this impression.  He asked me if a concept made sense; it got me so worked up, I clearly had to show him that I know my stuff. There I succeeded, and even got him to almost admit he could be wrong. Our subtle flirtation escaped the eyes of the other meeting participants.

For the second meeting, I was determined to seduce him. I kept thinking about that beautiful man and his confidence, bordering on arrogance; it turned me on. It was just me and him this time, pure coincidence but  I wasn’t going to take any prisoners, I showed up in a knee length skirt with a high slit, high heels, and a list of questions to ask him. Show some leg, show some brain, still the best advice I ever got.

I sat down next to him and he seemed softer, more reserved. First he got upset that all his teammates suddenly went to some event that he wasn’t invited to, and for a moment he reminded me a bit of a kid who wasn’t invited to the party. He apologised for the distraction; I got closer to view the demo on his screen; my leg accidentally brushed against his for only a brief moment, and his foot gently tapped against mine under the desk. It’s very difficult to concentrate on work conversation when the tension is so palpable, you can cut it with a knife.

At some point I veered the conversation away from work and asked a bit about his background, but he didn’t reciprocate. I already had him in the palm of my hand, he clearly understood that I knew my stuff, and it was in his best interest to be on my side. And yet he made me a bit nervous, looking at me with those big beautiful blue eyes, all the unspoken words sitting right there at their surface. He even excused himself to pretend to take a call, in fact to take a breath. When he came back I had crossed my legs and by this point he was openly staring there, where the skirt opened, high up on the thigh, only a few centimetres down from that sweet spot that was drawing his imagination….

He was the perfect gentleman at the end. He gave me all the information I needed for my work, and emphasised how happy he would be to assist me with anything in the future. I could think of a thing or two! His ‘kind regards’ at the end the email, the look in his eyes, his beautiful long hands and the flirtatious banter have set my mind racing; the work relationship was definitely mine, but I wanted to take it further; definitely not safe for work.

I dream about running into him at some event, after hours. Some corporate party where we spend time looking at each other across the room, him with his team, me with my work mates. Eventually he would come up to me, or appear next to me casually when I go to the bar. We would start talking, and he would suggest that he wanted to show me something back at the office, upstairs. We would disappear from the party and go back up. With the sexual tension escalating with each breath, the lift would be the perfect place for him to pounce on me. No, better wait. Let me lead the way. The seed has been planted, we both want it, now to draw these moments out for as long as possible in a fit of exquisite longing…

I lead him down the corridor. He’s still wearing the shirt and tie, I’m still in high heels. There is no one disabled on the floor, surely the disabled bathrooms can only be used for one purpose only. I lead him there, he is walking a bit behind me and checking me out. I can sense his eyes on me, going all over my body. I swagger and sway the hips to emphasise the curves for his visual pleasure. There’s the door, at the end of the corridor. I walk in and turn to face him. He closes the door and undoes his tie.

Now. He pushes me violently against the wall and raises my hands above my head, pinning them at the wrists with one hand. He kisses me hard, forcing his tongue into my mouth, passionately tasting me, the kind of kiss that sends shivers down my spine. He pulls back for a moment, looks deep into my eyes and weaves his long beautiful fingers through my hair, still holding me by the wrists with the other hand. He pulls a bit so that my head is tilted back, looks into my eyes again and kisses me, again, softer this time, but keeping his firm hold on my hair. He lets go; I’m shivering from all the excitement.

The tie comes in handy. He pulls my hands down and in front of me, and ties my arms together. I don’t know how I’m still standing at this point but I don’t have to stand much longer, he pulls me by the tie around my wrists for one quick kiss before pushing me onto my knees. There, he tells me to close my eyes; I’m happy to obey his commands, I find myself responding well to his soft sexy voice.

The best way to be introduced to a cock. He is already hard, so when he unzips his trousers and guides it towards my mouth I can feel its swollen head against my lips, I part them willingly and he pushes the rest of it in, softly, inch by inch and I can feel its girth, I struggle a bit to get my lips all around, and its length as I feel it hitting the back of my throat already when it’s not fully in. Delicious.

I can feel his hands undoing my shirt and going under my bra, grabbing my nipples, squeezing them softly, massaging my breasts and I can feel his desire in his touch. I open my eyes and look up at him while I struggle to take him deeper into my mouth. Finally, he lets escape a moan. He pulls out quickly and roughly forces me up.

There is no comfortable position here but with me wearing heels, we are closer in height so I just have to raise my leg up and find a surface of support, I turn around and do so as I bend over and arch myself out. First he secures me to a beam in the wall, still restrained at the wrists with his tie, then he goes back and I can feel him behind me, close, pressing against my swollen pussy lips for only a moment before forcing himself in; we both moan loudly at the same time, this feels amazing. He fucks me with his beautiful cock, his hands alternatively grabbing my ass or giving me some soft and gentle slaps, but his need is real, it’s there, as real as mine. I’m so wet with excitement I’m probably dripping down all over his cock, his legs, my legs, it’s all a mess but he keeps going, harder and harder until I lose myself completely in a massive orgasm, screaming so loud he has to shove his hand partially in my mouth to shut me up. His moans get louder when he does that and he comes as well, almost only a second after I’m done.

He has the presence of mind to loosen the tie at my wrists before collapsing onto the cold tiled floor, his hair a mess, his face flushed, his shirt half unbuttoned and his trousers partially down his legs. I pull down my skirt and button my shirt, look back at him and take him all in. This beautiful, sexy man. I look into his eyes and I just know, this man is mine. I smile, and he smiles back. I sit down next to him, take his head into my hands and give him one last, long, deep and meaningful kiss.

Submissive dreams

You take me to a club. You quickly check my outfit when we meet, but feel no need to collar me and put me on a leash. You are already near me, thus you are in control. We greet some acquaintances, grab some drinks and stand at the bar, talking in a crowd but inside I am trembling and excited at the same time, because I know you will take me there later, and you will use me, humiliate me, and treat me like your sexual slave. I’m looking forward to it.

A couple of tours around the club and I can feel you getting more excited, touching me more and more inappropriately. I hope you like my outfit, a very short skirt, stockings and suspenders, and an open bra. I like being like this next to you, dressed but my body fully on display, my nipples hard with the attention, the skirt not covering much and clearly revealing that I’m not wearing anything underneath. It’s only there to entice, and come off.

There is a show. A woman gets on stage, dances, strips, uses some toys on herself as part of the performance. It’s sexy and exciting; I could feel you standing behind me, your hard on pressing into my lower back, running your hands all over my body now, lifting up my skirt, grabbing my breasts, pulling at my nipples. I can feel the familiar tingling sensation between my legs, and I’m craving your touch there, your fingers inside me. I press myself against you and spread my legs, to give you easier access. Finally, after gently pulling and slapping at my nipples your hand travels down. Your fingers brush against my lips and you whisper in my ear, telling me how wet I am and how hard I’m making you. The verbal communication is just that little extra on the connection of our bodies, I respond to it by shuddering as your fingers are now circling my clit. You use one hand to spread my swelling lips and pulsate gently against my clit, while you take the other one around and stick first one, then two fingers inside me from behind. You’ve got me in a hold, pressing against you, fingering me with one hand, stimulating my clit with the other and I can’t help but let out some moans that draw the attention of people around us. You get me so excited I can feel myself getting close, but not just yet, you want me just there, so you abruptly stop and hold your arms around me as I tremble and whimper, but you don’t let me come.

You take me to the couples room. It’s surprisingly well lit, much more so than the rest of the club. You find a space for us and you bend me over, then go down on me for only a bit before I start trembling again; you pull back. You sit down next to me and stroke my head gently, and tell me what to do. You instruct me to spread my legs, so that others can clearly see my wet pussy, and you instruct me to use both hands to spread my cheeks so that my ass is well visible as well. You tell me there are people watching. You take out your beautiful cock and stroke it slowly, but your other hand travels down my back and towards my wide open holes. Your finger slides so easily into my ass, I won’t be needing any lube.

Suddenly, you stand up. You tell me to stay there, and continue to hold myself open. You tell me you will be back shortly and leave. I have no choice but to obey, but I feel lonely without you, standing there with my hands holding my ass open, my legs well spread, I know there are people watching and it’s humiliating and exciting at the same time. I wait patiently for your return, but time passes and I still can’t feel you coming back. I close my eyes.

I feel hands, they’re not your hands. Soft hands of a woman, and harder hands of a man. I feel them all over my back, exploring, going around and grabbing my breasts, touching my ass, caressing my legs. I can feel soft hands on both legs and someone kneels down behind me. I feel the touch of a woman’s tongue on my clit, it feels amazing and I want to moan but I don’t get a chance before a man grabs the back of my head and turns me in such a way that I have no choice but to take his cock in my mouth. He’s rough with me, forcing me to take him all the way, hitting the back of my throat, holding me by the hair while the woman is so gentle and soft. I get close again, but then I feel your hand and your voice tells her to stop. I’m not allowed to orgasm, not just yet.

It’s your turn now, your hands in my hair, your hard cock in my mouth and you let me enjoy it for a bit before you get rough with me, forcing yourself deeper because you know I can take it, in fact I enjoy it, you encourage me with your words and I just give in and let you fuck my mouth and my throat. I can feel your hands on my ass, inside my ass, still very ready but you tell the other man to use it to make himself come. You tell me to continue to hold my cheeks open as he presses the tip of his cock against it. It’s big, and it will be tight but it has to fit, you remind me. You also remind me that I’m there for your pleasure, and right now your pleasure is to watch this other man fuck my ass.

Which he does. Gently at first, he pushes himself in, inch by inch. At some point I want to scream out but let out only a muffled moan, but you sense it and tell him to stop. You can also sense me moving back against him a few moments later, when I’m more relaxed and ready to take it all in, at which point you indicate to him to continue. He does, it’s easy now, I am enjoying it, he’s liking it as well and I just feel ecstatic, with someone fucking me in the ass, your cock in my mouth, your hands on my head and I can feel the woman’s tongue on my clit, again. It’s not long before I am shuddering again and getting close, only this time you tell me that you want me to orgasm. You take your cock out of my mouth, grab my face, get down on your knees so that you are next to me, and tell me to look at you. I can feel myself coming and going in and out, with my pussy contracting, orgasmic waves going all over my body and my eyes losing focus but every time I come back to see your face, your eyes looking at me, encouraging me.

It’s done, and I’m not sure what happened to the other couple. You may have sent them away, or they may have gone into a corner to continue on their own. You hold me and look at me until I can see straight again, at which point you pull me onto your lap and straight onto your super hard cock. Our arms around each other, we look in each other’s eyes and I’m not sure who’s moving against whom but it is the perfect rhythm, we are completely wrapped up in each other and it feels new and familiar, you inside me, your eyes in mine, your lips press against mine for a deep kiss, and another, and another until you let out a groan and push yourself even deeper into me, grabbing my thighs so hard you may bruise me, but it doesn’t matter because it’s your orgasm now and I enjoy it with you. You kiss me again when you finish, and continue to hold me in your arms, with a big smile spreading all over my face. 

A harder fantasy, two parts

I feel your hands on my body, but my hands are tied to the corners of
the bed. You kiss me, first gently, then intensely, as you slip a
blindfold over my eyes and I fall into the darkness. The sensations
intensify. You kiss me again, then you lick my nipples and I can feel
the sparks flying all through my body; I tense up as I feel you move
away, but I can feel your hands again as you spread my legs wide and
give a few licks to my already wet pussy. I shudder.

I can feel you move away again, then you come back and start playing
with my pussy. You slide a couple of fingers in and it is dripping by
now, I want you so much. I feel your finger up my ass and I tighten
around it, but you take it right out as I do and then I feel something
much bigger on the tip of my asshole. I try to move away but you're no
longer gentle, you hold me down and force what feels like a massive
butt plug into my tight ass. I now feel sparks of pain as I'm
stretched out, struggling. You order me to keep it in and I can feel
you move around the bed and bring your hard cock near my mouth. I try
to reach for it but you tease me, with just the tip on my lips and my
eager tongue. You kiss me softly but then grab my head hard by the
hair, with your other hand on my throat you put your cock into my
eager waiting mouth and slide it all the way down, then keep it there,
holding me so I can't move. The pleasure of having your cock inside my
mouth clashes with the pain from my ass as you take your cock out and
let me get a breath of air, before forcing it down again, and again,
and again as I am aching for every stroke. You finally take it out and
let me run my tongue over your balls before moving away, again.

Your hands are on my breasts and you're about to enter my pussy, I am
so happy when I can feel you inside me but you remind me to keep
holding onto the butt plug, else there will be some punishment. You
fuck me long and slow, then fast and hard and it doesn't take long for
me to near orgasm, I can feel myself falling deeper as my pussy
tightens around your cock; I'm begging you to keep going. You let me
come but I can't hold on to the butt plug, you sense that and quickly
pull it out of my ass and put it into my mouth, stifling my moans. You
fuck me some more until my orgasm is finished, then take my ankles and
tie them to my wrists, so that I'm wide open and unable to move. You
remind me that there's punishment to be had, I can't say much because
the big butt plug is still in my mouth. You slap my wet pussy, first
gently, then harder, and harder still, as I struggle but I'm unable to
move away at all. You finally stop and move away, leaving me there,
restrained, wide open and exposed, with feelings of pleasure and pain
washing all over my body.

I'm not sure how long you're gone for, I'm still in the dark but I can
hear some voices, yours and someone else's. Suddenly I can sense there
is more light, and it is you with someone else in the room, another
man. I feel embarrassed and turned on at the same time, with my legs
out and my pussy and asshole fully exposed. You take the butt plug out
of my mouth but I can't say anything because your tongue fills my
mouth straight away. Suddenly I can feel two sets of hands on me, two
tongues taking turns in my mouth, on my nipples, different fingers in
both of my holes. Yet it is your hands that hold my throat as a
stranger's cock enters my mouth, going deeper and deeper with every
stroke. Then it's you, going down my throat straight away yet only for
a few moments before you pull it out and move my head to the other
side to suck the stranger's cock again. You take turns, I'm stupidly
turned on again and eager for every moment, yet I don't know what you
have planned for me to happen next.

It is your hands again on my ass, spreading my cheeks, showing me off
to the other guy, sliding a finger in and out a few times but it's not
you who is about to enter me there. I'm not in a position to object as
your hand is covering my mouth, the same fingers that were just inside
me, so I lick them clean as I struggle not to scream out in pain. Once
you're satisfied that I'm not resisting, you let me suck your cock
again and lick your balls; the pleasure overtakes me as the pain
recedes to the back of my mind and dissipates there. You position
yourself so that you're sitting on my face, your asshole right over my
mouth so I lick all over it, around it, and put my tongue inside it as
your fingers are on my pussy, playing with the piercing, intensifying
the sensations and I'm close again, I'm moaning hard but no one can
hear me, with your ass in my face and the stranger's cock in my ass. I
explode into a mind blowing orgasm and so do you, I can feel you cum
all over my tits, and my wide open mouth, eager for every drop, I want
to taste you. At the same time the other guy pulls out of my ass and
comes onto my tits and mouth as well. Your kiss, you untie my arms and
legs but leave the blindfold on for the time being, I am completely
overwhelmed and curl into a ball as you walk the other man out and
come back, lie down beside me and hold me in your arms until I fall
asleep.

Shame: my story (fiction based on the film)

It took some time to formulate my thoughts after I walked out of the screening of ‘Shame’. The setting was familiar; the story resonated with past experiences. Yet what was most on my mind is the behaviour of the women in the film. They seemed always willing, looking for sexual adventures despite their ‘taken’ status, forthcoming and even aggressive, just like the men, or even worse. As a result, I started thinking about the portrayal of a similar scenario from a woman’s perspective. I am that woman.

I am attractive, charismatic, intelligent, professionally successful yet I have spent several years of my life in a similar loop of addiction, sleeping with many men and getting into more and more extreme situation to satisfy the emotional emptiness within. There is no logical explanation in my background for this behaviour – the parents’ divorce wasn’t pleasant, but it’s a common occurrence, and a broken heart at university was not an immediate cause, since I had no trouble pursuing a normal relationship afterwards, and there was a gap of several years before the addiction truly kicked in. It must be caused by something deeper within, and the clash of that unknown with societal norms and expectations. Living in New York contributed to the inner emptiness that I struggled so hard to fulfill.

Whoever said it was the greatest city in the world, lied. For beneath the modern and shiny reflective surface of New York lies such loneliness, emptiness and cynicism, there is no connection. There are so many attractive and interesting people that it’s very difficult for people to be satisfied with what they have. Exchanged glances with a charismatic stranger on the subway, an exhilarating conversation with someone from a different path of life in a downtown bar, a mutual appreciation of an art piece at an exhibition leads to coffee, drink, bed. Another day, another sexual adventure. Then of course there is the all-encompassing web of the Internet; when I took the plunge into online adult personals, I felt like I had tapped a vein. So many responses from so many men! So many good looking and interesting men, all wanting to meet me, to sleep with me! Hopping from taxi to bar to bed to another taxi, getting back home in the middle of the night or early morning, constantly checking my phone for the texts from unsaved numbers suggesting to meet up, reading my personal email surreptitiously at work and going for a run around the Central park reservoir every morning, running to attain a high that proved more and more elusive, running forward, running away, coming full circle again and again.

In the midst of all this I met a guy I really liked. I met him through the same channels, and went to bed with him after two drinks. The sex was amazing, the connection was there, I was exhilarated after the meeting, practically running home, clenching my fist tight to retain the feel of the touch, the smell, with a huge smile on my face. I met someone I really liked!  He contacted me straight away the next day, and most days thereafter, always asking about me, chatting away, but always shying away from meeting up again. He was further up the road than me, more cynical, much more experienced, more shut off. Yet he liked me, too.

After a month of playing the game, I asked him straight out why he doesn’t want to meet up. His response is one I have heard from others before – he said that he likes me, but I seem like a nice girl who needs a nice boyfriend, and he is not looking for a relationship. Unwilling to let him go so easily, I have asked what it is he is looking for. This is when he told me straight out that he is into group sex, swingers’ parties, orgies, and sleeping with multiple women. Try me, I said. He offered to take me to a party the next day.

In love and in addiction, we’re always trying to replicate our first successful experience. Since that day, sex parties became a major part of my life; I have frequently avoided evenings with friends and made up excuses in order to escape to a sex club, or yet another private party. Yet there are many times where I turned down the invitation from the man, because part of me was still hoping to find romantic love. Or was it the possibility another sexual adventure that titillated me more at the time? I turned him down, then I went to parties on my own, partially hoping that he would be there, but he wasn’t, he was probably in bed with someone else so I would hop in with another stranger. Gather my clothes when it’s getting light outside, have the doorman hail me a cab home.

I stopped talking to this man, almost fell in love again, still unfulfilled, struggled through a couple of attempts at normal relationships before deciding to make the move to London. It was the right time to leave. I sent him a quick note suggesting to meet for a drink before I leave, since he was the one man in the back of my mind, the one I most regretted leaving in New York. The world suddenly turned; he came after me with such fervour and passion that I was a bit freaked out, and continuously told him no. While previously he was always busy with other women and made it seem like he didn’t have room for me in his life, suddenly I was the only one that mattered – he could see me tomorrow, he could see me the day after, he could see me on the weekend, he could see me anytime I wished. It took a month of pursuit for me to finally meet him, and my last two weeks in New York were spent as much as possible with him.

I moved to London and I thought that we were over; the misconception lasted two days – he started talking to me again almost every day. I didn’t have many friends initially so I liked having someone to talk to; he also promised to visit. He came eventually, but then he left, which brought me down and almost pushed me into the cycle again. I somehow managed to escape for the time being, and ended up dating someone for six months. Yet I still longed for the one in New York, I loved him with all my heart, so the relationship here failed while alienating the New York man in the process. The quiet before the storm lasted a couple of months; the self-destructive behaviour returned with a vengeance.

A different man every night, most days of the week. A few of them regulars on rotation, supplemented by the always available roster of single men in the city’s dingier bars or clubs. Only one at a time, and each one was made to feel special – in case there was a night when I needed someone short notice, several options were always open.  Constantly changing sheets, throwing away the trash with the used condoms, changing stockings. I even had honed a foolproof strategy to get through the working day with a hangover and lack of sleep, so that by the end of the workday I was ready to go to the next pub, to the next club, looking and feeling great. It wasn’t a successful night out unless it ended in sex. There were always willing partners in crime, and girlfriends who were amused enough by my antics to keep me company and play sidekick. I always got my man, almost without trying. It was too easy, and gradually the game got to the point where it no longer satisfied.

Along the way I discovered a harder version of sex. The man was unassuming looking, cute but boyish, not very tall, charming but not particularly charismatic or fascinating. Three years later, the number of conversations we had during that time could be counted on the fingers of one hand. We always best expressed ourselves in bed together; come rain or shine, we would end up together, and no matter what men I filled my time with during the week, come Friday night we would go separate ways but find each other at the end. He was the personification of my addiction, he was my obsession, and he felt the same way about me. To say that we fell madly in love would bring an unnecessary romantic element to the story, but it’s fair to say that our connection was so strong that while we were constantly drawn to each other, we just as strongly pushed each other away, we hurt and we were hurting, we were too scared to think what all of this may mean, but when after all the fighting, the pain, the tears, the drinking and the recklessness we ended up in each other’s arms, it all seemed great again. I had found my match, and we got ourselves into a perpetual cycle that drove each of us further and further down into our deep, dark world.

Around this time I ditched the regular bars and clubs as pick-up joints, and progressed onto more dedicated establishments to get my fill. Walking into a sex club on y own at 1am on a Friday night, for the first time after a few years of absence, felt like finding my home again; I returned the next night and the following weekend. I met more people, who told me about more places, other parties, and my world had opened up again. During those nights it wouldn’t satisfy me to sleep with just one guy; it was a game, so it had to be two or sometimes three, maybe with another girl involved, for good measure. It never worked out the way they show it in porn. Since these activities were restricted to the weekends, I spent the time during the week watching porn and enjoying various combinations of several vibrating toys, which provided a short-term fix. Then on the weekends I would try to re-enact that which I fantasised about during the week.

The parties got more intense, usually followed by private after parties at amazing flats in central London. The after parties expanded to regular nights out, so it was common for a typical after work drinks to culminate in several exchanges of texts, and the crowd would gather at the same spot for the same series of acts; even the shade of the meaning got completely lost.  I had the dream life, amazing friends, access to the coolest clubs and the most exclusive sex parties in London. It all came crashing down soon enough, another party, four men, five am, out on the street, short skirt, no underwear, no taxis in sight when I made the call to the nearest person I knew.

I stopped. I re-assessed my priorities. I spent a lot of time thinking about what I’m looking for. I stopped the drinking and started yoga. I even got a better job, and I deleted all the phone numbers of my meaningless hookups. I reconnected with true friends, I was open with them and they helped guide me. I have spent so many years being lost, but now I have finally found myself. I broke off all my toxic relationships, and drew a line under the situation with the New York man. I am ready for something more; more passion, more intimacy, a partner, and a relationship. I am a woman, and I have survived my shame.

The psychology of kink

People who engage in BDSM take it very seriously, and they have done a great deal of psychological work to get there. I certainly have, spending a lot of time reconciling my desires in the bedroom with the way I view myself, the way I project myself onto the world and where I want to go in the future.

At first it took me by surprise. The fantasies and desires were in my head for longer than I can remember, always playing on repeat like an old film reel, frequently in black and white. My fantasies used to be my escape world, somewhere I could go to create a life I imagined for myself. I visualised it so vividly, down to every detail – the man, the lines of my body under his touch, the scenarios of the games we play as well as the sensations and the feelings. Some days my imagination was so powerful it could bring me to orgasm.

And then it happened. It wasn’t at all the way I imagined it. He didn’t look like the man in my fantasies, but he was the one I consciously submitted to. His touch, his voice, the feeling of his presence were sufficient to drive me to a place where I could switch off my mind and let him guide me through my fantasies. We took each other on a journey of exploration where every dark corner of our minds could be opened and our imagination ran free. We developed our sexuality around each other, almost subconsciously. We got addicted to each other; we could fight and not see each other for weeks, yet when we were together the whole world could collapse around us and we wouldn’t notice. We fell madly in love. It almost destroyed us in the end.

I couldn’t face the world of kink and BDSM without him. He was my partner, my Dom, and I wanted him to be there when I went to the fetish fairs, the clubs, the parties, and the shows. That’s something we have always done together or fantasised about doing together. And now he wasn’t there, and I couldn’t handle it. I was still drawn to it but after an afternoon spent in the company of people comfortable with themselves, their desires and their sexual preferences looking at all the toys and tools of the trade, I ran out of that dark basement into the afternoon sun with tears streaming down my face. Something was wrong.

And then I thought it through. I spent a lot of time reading and researching, pondering my desires for submission, humiliation and kinky sex and reconciling them to my daily existence as a beautiful, intelligent and confident woman with a strong sense of self worth. I realised that my desires for a bit of humiliation play did not come from a place of low self esteem, in fact it’s the opposite. I understood that my preferences for kinky sex did not stem from any psychological issues but were as innate and basic and my likes and dislikes of various food and drink. I also grasped the fact that my submission was a gift, to be treasured and cherished, and it was a form of emotional and mental release for my sexuality which in no way implied that I would accept poor treatment from partners in my daily life. I was still a lady, to be treated respectfully like any other human being.

Slowly I came out onto the scene again. I went to some drinks where I was nervous at first, after all the people there would ask me the most intimate questions. They wanted to know whether I’m submissive or dominant, and how I got into kink but that was just normal conversation for them, the ones comfortable in their own skin. I asked them questions and realised that they have similar stories, fantasies that were always there and one partner who brought it all out into the open. I also met people of all kinds, submissive men and dominant women, the reversal of traditional gender roles, as well as switches, fetishists, and a variety of other kinky individuals. Through all this, I was able to define and verbalise my desires and better understand what I want from a relationship, a partner. I was able to articulate my needs and understand that I am not in any way abnormal, and I am not alone.

I get it now. I’ve thought it through. I have submissive tendencies, even though I consider myself a switch. I am a highly sexual human being. Sex is important to me, but so is a connection and chemistry. I like BDSM because it is a mind fuck, literally – you need to have some mental capacity in the first place in order to open it to exploration. I want to apply all to sex, my body, my emotions, and my intelligence. I don’t want to play dating games that vanilla people seem so focused on; I think the only games worth playing are in the bedroom. I want to give up control, but that has to be earned. I want the dynamics of a full on D/s relationship; there is no indecisive stage when that’s involved. I want a lover and a partner, all in one person, and it’s not too much to ask for. I have been on a journey and it’s still ongoing, but so far along the way I also understand that my desires, my dreams, my fantasies and my emotions make me who I am, I’m simply human.

Adventures in the dark

Last night at a fetish party, a friend of mine asked me to accompany him, a girl he’s seeing, and her boyfriend to the couples’ room. She wanted a threesome, but they could only grant access to people in pairs.

‘Come in with us, just for five minutes!’

‘Sure, why not.’

There was a bit of a queue but it was still early, so we only waited a few minutes before we were ushered in front of a security guard. He seemed a bit confused by our little ménage.

‘Which is which couple?’

‘We’re a couple, and they’re a couple.’

‘Ok,’ he said, then pointed at my friend and I and said, ‘You two kiss’.

Fine, what’s a kiss between friends? It was passionate and realistic; after a few minutes of tongue dancing we took a breather and asked if he’s seen enough. He was still tricked by the situation, so asked the other two to kiss. They did. We were ushered in.

The couples’ room… the mystery, the passion, the crazy sex and massive orgy that must be happening there is such a prevailing myth within a certain scene that people are willing to queue up for an hour at times just to see what’s going on. Unsurprisingly, these scene tourists usually walk out even more confused, failing to understand what it’s all about.

The first time I ended up in one of those was at my first visit to a fetish party in London. I have been to fetish and swingers parties before, but I have never seen a queue. I may have even had some grand expectations as well, titillated by the thought that this may be it, the holy grail of the seedy and sexual underbelly of this town. After a wait of forty-five minutes, my date and I finally reached the hallowed entrance. The curtain was pulled aside…

… to reveal a room the size of a large walk-in closet, with a bench running along the perimeter and some sort of a table in the middle. We were allocated a space on the bench the width of a typical bus seat, for the two of us. Fair to the name, the rest of the people there were only couples, with just as little space in which to perform a bit of a hand job, a touch of a blowjob followed by a spot of intercourse in the woman on top sitting position. Some tried to be more creative in their positions, but invariably their attempts were crushed by the presence of others all around them and the hard wooden back of the peripheral bench. Some people tried to use the table, but it wasn’t the optimal height for any action. To say that I disappointed in the whole set-up would be the understatement of the year, feeling just like those scene tourists that I railed against earlier in this post.

Jane’s fantasy (part I)

‘Sex is violence’

I stand in the crowd and watch you up on the stage. You look so dark and mysterious, so sexy with your moody guitar riffs and occasional vocals. I’m here for the concert, for you, along with a few thousand other fans. There are plenty of other women, but I know you will be mine tonight.

I watch you play, I know some of the songs. I sing along to them with your lead singer, with you, with the rest of the crowd. Other songs are new, some I like more than others, but nonetheless I can feel the electricity in the air as your music drifts around me and through me, surrounding me. I find myself drifting away into fantasy as I watch you up on that stage.

In my fantasy, you are rough. You barely let me speak, but I’m not there for conversation. I don’t care if you even know my name. I am only here to have you, and I want you to take me with all the power and force that you project when you’re up on that stage. You grab me by the hair, kiss me roughly, lift me up onto a counter where you slide your hands up my legs, underneath my skirt, grabbing me hard enough to leave marks, surrounded by half empty liquor bottles, cigarette packets, guitar picks and random pages of text, your songs, your music. The rough and quick tumble with a rock star fantasy.

In reality, you are gentle. You take my hand and lead me away into your private world. It’s surprisingly clean, no half empty bottles or full ashtrays. The lighting is soft and mysterious. You offer me a drink, champagne. We sit down on the sofa and you talk to me, very soft spoken and erudite. You ask about my life, my passions, my dreams. I find myself opening up to you a bit more than I would have expected, expressing my dreams, desires, and frustrations. You listen. Is it the false sense of familiarity, because you’re a rock star I have fantasised about for such a long time? After years and years of listening to your music and feeling that it speaks to me on a deeper level, there you are, actually speaking, and listening. I sense a connection.

We kiss. Your lips touch mine softly, your manicured stubble a gentle caress on my face. My lips part in response and our tongues touch, taste, intertwine around each other as I feel the electricity surge through my body, from our lips all the way down, my nipples harden, I can feel myself getting wet wanting you but you’re in no rush. Your tongue explores my mouth, your hands caress my arms, my back, my legs. Finally, you slide them under my skirt and to the tops of the special sexy stockings I wore for this occasion.

My mind drifts. At my insistent touch you slip your t-shirt over your head and stand up. I feel a surge of heat and a shortness of breath; in person, you’re even more beautiful than in the photos from the album booklets that I used to flip through obsessively, or on that poster I had in my room as a teenager. You stand in front of me, I reach over to your belt but struggle with the fancy rocker buckle; you laugh and help me undo it. I want you in my mouth; I slip off your sexy black jeans and pull you towards me so I can taste you. You’re incredibly well endowed and a very nice shape, which is a very pleasant surprise. Of course I wouldn’t know it from the posters and the album photos.

You look down on me as I slide my lips up and down your cock, which is fully hard now. I look up at you to see if you are enjoying it. You smile, take my head in your hands, and lift me up to you. You kiss me, my lips, then my neck, then work your way down. You remove my top and my bra in one swift motion, and take a step back to look at me. I feel exposed under your gaze, but it’s only a moment before your hands and your mouth are all over me, caressing my torso and licking my nipples, one, then the other, then back again. Your hands reach down and slip off my skirt, it’s only the stockings left. You take a step back to look at me again, taking in my body with your penetrating gaze then look into my eyes, smile again and push me back onto the sofa. You kneel down and spread my legs.

Your magic hands! You spread my labia with one hand and place your tongue on my clit, which sends shivers all through my body. I involuntarily arch my back, pushing myself onto your mouth and throw my head back for only a moment before looking back down again. I need to see you, I need to imprint this image on my mind, my rock star fantasy right there, on your knees between my legs. You use your other hand to slide first one, then two fingers inside me, continuing to circle your tongue over my clit. I’m not sure I can control myself much longer but you insist, your hand inside of me seems to find all the right spots while your amazing tongue is bringing me closer and closer to orgasm. I let myself go, I can feel my mind drift away and it’s only one sensation left, I tense up and then fall into the rhythm of the sweet release of orgasm. You go with it for what seems like an eternity before I come back down to earth and look down again, to see you smiling at me, your fingers still inside of me…

London is sexy

London! London is mysterious. London is dark. London is moody. London is sexy.

London is just the place to explore our dark, deep erotic desires.

Fetish. Kink. BDSM. Swingers. Men. Women. Upscale. Dirty. Everything is on offer, if you know where to look.

A chilly October night, the rain just stopped so the air smells fresh and the night sky is so clear you can see the stars. I’m dressed to impress, wearing my nicest stockings and suspenders, sexy bra, high heels and a nice knee length slip dress over the lingerie ensemble. Only a taxi would do to get me where I’m going. I slip some condoms into my purse and apply dark red lipstick before tousling my hair and stepping out into the night.

The party takes place in a mansion in central London, and the crowd is carefully selected to include only the young and beautiful creatures of the night. Only women and couples are allowed to partake. Sexy dress encouraged, lingerie mandatory at midnight. There will be masks given out at the entrance, and complimentary champagne. The night is fully of possibilities. I can feel myself getting excited in anticipation.

But first, drinks. To calm the nerves, and to meet the other couple we are taking to the party. We meet at my date’s private club in West End, the boys dressed up in fancy jeans and jackets, the girls in dresses. We have a couple of drinks there and talk about ourselves, our experiences, our thoughts on this type of parties. I haven’t been to this one before, but I know that this is considered the best in London. It’s not advertised anywhere, only word of mouth, only people who know get the invitations.

We arrive at the venue shortly before midnight. Right away our coats are taken away to a cloakroom upstairs, and we’re given masks. We grab a glass of champagne and mingle with the beautiful crowd in the lounge downstairs, some people I recognize, some friends, others complete strangers but we exchange sexy glances, smiles, introductions and kisses.

At midnight, we are told to change into our boudoir attire. I slip out of my dress and wander back down among the gorgeous women wearing sexy lingerie ensembles of their own, to find the men have either stripped down to their underwear or slipped into a robe for comfort. He takes my hand and we make our way upstairs, followed by the other couples, to the bedrooms where the action has already started.

There are two rooms. One is a bit restrained, just some couples on the bed, women touching, kissing and caressing each other softly while the men look on. The second room, oh my! First, the smell. The smell of sweat and sex, it’s very hot in there as well. Once my eyes adjust to the dim lights I can make out beautiful bodies on the big bed, on the edge of the bed, on the floor. Women’s breasts, their legs, stockings and lace mingled everywhere on the bed, on top of each other, touching, kissing, licking, moaning. A few men standing around as well, mostly watching, some participating. The moans and the smell of sex fill the room.

I kiss the girl of the other couple and take her to the bed. She is shy at first, but I can see she is enjoying this tremendously, she is soaking wet when I reach between her legs. I kiss her lips again and kiss down her body, her small breasts with their sensitive nipples, her stomach, caress her legs and go down on her. She starts moaning in ecstasy. I don’t notice that both men come closer as well, so while I’m licking her she’s sucking off first one, then the other, taking turns, going back and forth. I can feel hands on my back, my hair, they’re men’s hands but I cannot tell them apart.

Eventually we all find some space on the bed and engage in more play. I suck her guy while he touches me all over, she is over there with my date, absorbed in their play as well. We stay apart for a bit and come together again, she’s lying down, I sit on her face and let her lick me while her guy starts fucking her gently, softly at first but going harder and harder. My date goes behind me and slides into me, right over her face. I kiss her man and can feel hands on me again, on my back, my stomach, my breasts, not just the men’s hands but others join in, soft touches of women next to us, some harder hands of the other men around. I get lost in the pleasure, I can feel this sea of hands washing over me, the waves reaching higher and higher into my head until I tense up and explode in a delicious orgasm, adding my own scent and heat to the already tense atmosphere in the room. The men both come shortly after and stumble off the bed, while I fall onto my back right there on the same spot, I can still feel the hands but their caresses are softer now, somewhat muted, as I retreat inside my head.

When I come to it, the party’s over, I find my clothes and manage a quick cigarette on the balcony with another glass of champagne. I see my date talking to some girl in one corner, the couple we came with come up to me and say their goodbyes, I exchange some pleasantries with other acquaintances but I am still in a bit of a daze so I make my way out, back into a waiting taxi, back into the night across town and back home, where I can happily fall asleep in the comfort of my own bed. Thank you, London, for another fantastic night.

Lady of manners

As an inadvertent consequence of my alternative lifestyle, I find myself defining the rules of sexual etiquette when it comes to threesomes, group sex, encounters at clubs or parties, and one night stands. Here is a light-hearted attempt to put it all in one place.

It’s bad manners to deny a man the right to orgasm. Of course, as part of play it could be fun and exciting, but ultimately the man needs a release. Let him have it. Especially if you’ve gotten back late after a long night, both drunk as skunks, and he was unable to come the night before, let him have a quickie in the morning. It generally wouldn’t take long and he will leave happy. That’s good manners.

It’s also bad manners to leave out a participant in a threesome. Of course it happens sometimes, when playing with a couple, the two of them end up absorbed in each other. In this case if you are the third participant, it is fine to let them be but otherwise, all parties should always be participating and enjoying themselves, until everyone is fulfilled and preferably exhausted, if you’re doing it right. In which case the party that’s tired can excuse themselves for a nap and not get offended when the remaining two continue on their own. Though preferably not on top of the tired party that’s trying to sleep.

It’s always tricky dealing with one night stands in the morning. They should get the hint and leave, especially when the host has somewhere better to be. It’s nice to offer them a coffee, if you’re making one for yourself. Some people want breakfast, though I find it too much when it’s just some casual fun. I’ve found myself on occasion sitting in someone’s kitchen while he made breakfast for himself, all the while asking me if I was sure I didn’t want anything – yes, I was fine with my coffee, black no sugar, thank you. Now how do I get back to civilisation from here, please? Thank you for a fun night.

The extension of that is going out for breakfast or lunch, or spending the day together afterwards, talking. That just messes with expectations. If you like each other enough to spend more time together after the sex, it leads to believe that there is more there, more to explore, a connection, maybe. It’s not just a case of having company, from my experience. In fact, I’ve been in situations where what could have been a one night stand turned into more, which was great, and the first indication of that was that I didn’t mind going for lunch with him and sticking around after spending the evening, night and morning together.

However, don’t use that line – I don’t think any girl has been convinced to go home with someone by a promise of breakfast in the morning. Nice try.

A good fuck buddy is good for three things. He will show up when I call. He will fuck me, and do it well, as per the definition. He will not stick around too long afterwards and will leave, without spending the night. Perfect, just what I needed after a long day at work. I will clean up the traces in the morning – a half empty bottle of wine, a full ashtray, toys and accessories all around the bed, only my clothes left on the floor. Thank you for being understanding and not staying the night. I really don’t have the patience for the majority of people in the morning.

That’s all I can think of for now. Of course there are exceptions to every rule. I will add more to the etiquette series in the future.

Connections (self portrait)

I met her when she was just a girl of twenty, uncertain of her future, unsure of herself, already a woman but still not fully an adult. I could still see her now, curled up in a chair or on a sofa like a cat, with a book on her lap, completely absorbed in the text, or with a notebook, writing away through the night, writing her stories. Stories she wouldn’t show anyone, reflections on her life, clearing up the confusion in her head by putting thoughts down on paper.

A silky strand of dark reddish hair falls over her face; she brushes it away to reveal a high forehead, wide cheekbones giving away her foreign origins, a defined nose and sharp blue-grey eyes, accentuated by jet black eyebrows and long eyelashes. Her small lips pursed, she focuses on page before her, unaware of the time and then it’s already late, and she has to be up early in the morning. She lights a cigarette and looks at the clock, counting the hours of sleep she could still catch, too few, always too few but she manages the escape the dark circles that would dampen the beauty of her eyes…

As I came into her life she barged into mine, demanding to be heard and hoping to be understood by someone she viewed as a kindred spirit. We read the same books, liked the same cities, listened to similar music and had a dynamic exchange of ideas on the subjects of politics, culture, and religion. It’s just the personal matters that we could not bring ourselves to discuss. Moments of happiness, fleeting and precious, preceded or followed by demands and accusations, not entirely unreasonable on her part. I left the country at the end of the summer, and I left her without saying goodbye.

And then there were the letters. As befits a coward, I got in touch with her from a safe distance of a few thousand miles and an ocean between us, with all due apologies and a pathetic attempt at an explanation for my sudden disappearance. Looking back now, I wonder if I fell for her then, or if it happened gradually, over the years, when the only thing that tied us together were these letters, sometimes light, sometimes happy, sometimes emotional, on occasion so abysmally depressing that I worried about her well being but never managed to properly express my care and concerns.

It took seven years. I was back in town, wandering around looking for something that I couldn’t place when I saw her walking towards me. She hadn’t changed much, her appearance still very youthful, the same round face, long hair, even the same look, blue jeans black boots leather jacket. She was walking towards me wearing sunglasses on an overcast day, I wasn’t sure whether she could see me but I felt like the world had stopped and there was only her. She looked the same, she was right here but the miles and the years have washed away all the feelings and all that remained was a connection, and the questions of what could have been, questions forever unanswered. I’m not sure if she saw me; she just walked past.

Hermine: a fantasy

“I want a man who can kill me with his bare hands.”

I want someone who can make me feel the pleasure in the pain. It’s only through pain that we can feel truly alive in this world. So tie me up, hold me down, slap me around so hard that it hurts, and make love to me.

Emotions are part of the game. Tease me, play with me, promise me, lead me and guide me as long as I trust you. Because I must trust you with life when the day comes. And it will come, probably just a little sooner than we wish.

Imagine being tied to a chair, hands behind your back, legs restrained as well. Blindfolded. I sit down opposite, smoke a cigarette and simply look at you. Do not speak, do not break the silent strings of tension.

I will come to you when I please. I will kiss you gently on your lips, and unbutton your shirt. I will run my hands over your body, plant a few kisses here and there and remove your shirt altogether. I will then move behind you and caress your sensitive neck, your strong shoulders, your beautiful lean long back. You will only have a split second before I strike you with a whip; you will hear the sound as it cuts through the air, but your hands are tied, there is nothing you can do to move away from it so you let it fall onto your shoulders, your back, stinging, striking, leaving red traces in its wake. I want to hear you scream in pain before you moan softly with pleasure as I kiss the red marks on your back. I’m in control, and I will play with you, tease you, caress you then strike you until I’m satisfied, then kiss you deeply and passionately until you want me so much that it hurts.

I will then pause, remove your blindfold, and sit across from you again and smoke another cigarette as I watch you, and let you watch me. Silence. Look at me. Take in my body, my face, my clothing and my pose. Look at my lips and my facial expression. Look me in the eyes. See what you can read there.

I will cut your bonds with a sharp knife, accidentally leaving a scratch on your wrist. Let me kneel down and kiss it better. Let me lick the traces of blood off your skin. Let me taste you.

Take my face in your hands, kiss me gently and deeply then slap me. Grab me by the hair. Drag me to the bed. Tear off my clothes, push me onto the bed and spread my legs with your body while pinning me down by the wrists. Enter me with a sense of urgency, first hard and then gently, make love to me gently before going harder again to finish until you are done.

Hold me. Let me hold you. Let me drift off to sleep in your arms, my body fulfilled and my mind completely at peace.

The love of a woman

Women are beautiful. Their smooth skin, soft curves, gentle touches and tender lips are a world apart from the feel of a man. I’ve been attracted to women most of my adult life, though it took a special one to make me realise it back at university. I think everyone experiments at university, for one reason or another – out of curiosity, or to please the boys. For me it was the beginning of sexual exploration and it stuck, to the point where I can’t imagine not being attracted to women.

It takes a very specific type to get to me. Maybe it is the opposite of me in some way. Someone who’s soft, feminine, a bit rough around the edges but all too aware of the effect she can create around her, through a simple glance, a gesture, a flip of her hair or a smile. The mysterious charm of a beautiful woman…

She was French. Not originally French, more of a mysterious Eastern background but brought up there, she had assimilated the best part of that culture that has a reputation for the sexiness and sexuality of their women. Long hair, brown eyes, fair skin and full lips. A fantastic figure with shapely legs and a fabulous ass, yet small and elegant breasts. A woman’s breasts should be small enough to fit into a couple of champagne, they say in France. Hers certainly did.
The first time I got a feeling she was attracted to me was on a weekend at the beach. We went to change into our bathing suits and she took off her dress very casually in one gesture. She stood there in her little lacy underwear and watched me through the mirror, watched my eyes travel over her body, taking in the shapely breasts and the dark, hard nipples. Our eyes met and I think I looked away.

We always talked about sex. Boys and sex, a topic of conversation much more interesting than work. I knew her romantic history, her current interests and what she liked in bed. She seemed to get boys into her with a snap of her fingers, a flick of her hair and a quick peek of the tops of her stockings all the while laughing at the simplicity of it all.

She got me into stockings. She would frequently flash me the tops of hers, regular stockings that she wore under her work trousers or the suspenders held up by a lacy garter belt that she reserved for skirts. She looked good in them, and insisted that it’s the only bedroom clothes a girl needs. She took me shopping for my first collection, showed me how to put it together and also pointed out that the slip goes on top of the suspenders/garter belt combination, that way it can come off while the rest stays on. The only bedroom clothes you ever need, indeed.

She came to stay over at mine on a few occasions. I was very attracted to her but I didn’t know how to act on it, until we were in bed together at which point I let my hands wander over her body and leaned in for a kiss. I kissed her all over, her voluptuous lips, her sexy breasts, going down her body until my mouth was between her legs. I licked her pussy the same way a man had done me in the past, focusing on the sensitive button and flicking my tongue back and forth, until I felt her tightening around me, getting close, her pussy all engorged, rubbing against me, harder, tenser still, then finally exploding and contracting in an intense orgasm before collapsing and going completely quiet. I could see her chest and her cheeks redden as well, so I knew this was for real.

She got jealous of my lover. He also got jealous of her, and tried to play us off each other by telling me that she had flirted with him at the coffee machine. I went a bit insane and confronted her about it; she slapped me on the face and told me that he’s the bastard playing the game, that she would never flirt with him, that she only said hello to him because by now the whole floor knew about him and I and all my friends knew who he was. She was the first to tell me that he had resigned, and his goodbye drinks were that Friday. She was a bit surprised to find out that I already knew it because we had just gotten back together and he had spent the previous night at my place.

She wasn’t interested in him. I suggested a threesome on several occasions, even tempting her with dinner and toys, but she wasn’t interested in the slightest. She was more keen on an Irish boy we met by accident in some late night club, he was there with his friend, I was with her, and it seemed a perfect match at the time – two boys for two girls. We spent half the night kissing them and kissing each other while dancing together. Essentially starting a swingers’ club on the dance floor. Shock and awe all around.

We went home with the boys and first she was with the Irish one while I was with his friend. I enjoyed watching her, in her stockings and suspenders, riding him and moaning in ecstasy. She was screaming at me in French about how amazing and endowed he is, encouraging me to try him out. The whole scenario collapsed into giggles when he said what they taught him in his high school French class – ‘je parle Francais’. Then I did try him; she was right, he was fun.

We had more fun all together one more time at mine. I’m not sure how it fell upon me to organise a threesome, but it was a difficult tactical maneuvre. I had to coordinate my cycle and my sex life with her cycle and with the guy’s social schedule. Granted his social schedule would always take second place to a threesome with us, but it took a couple of months for her to agree on a date. He came running when we called, and all of us had a lot of fun before kicking him out to return home and going to sleep just the two of us.

I lost her as a lover and a friend. She did something to upset me, I can see now that she did it out of love but it came out all wrong, and I thought she was out of line. I didn’t speak to her for a month, until eventually a friend brought us together to reconcile. She had a chance to explain herself but I was so upset and angry I didn’t know whether I wanted to slap her pretty face or kiss her full gorgeous lips. We argued, we ended up making out in some bathroom of a bar, we got drunk and I left them to continue their night while I went to see my lover, the one she didn’t like.
I was almost ready to forgive her. She might be a bit of an idiot, but she is still someone I cared about deeply as a friend and a person. We even made small steps to re-establish the friendship but then something happened, I went away for five days to get my head together after a difficult situation with that lover and when I came back, she was gone. I tried calling her, texting her, writing to her but she just ignored me, and at the time I could not understand why.

I saw her once again. She came to this bar where I was drinking, while I was outside having a smoke. She came swaggering straight at me, with that long luscious hair, full lips, shapely legs and curvy body that I remember so well. We exchanged an old time snarky greeting and she went past me into the bar, got a drink, came back out but stood to the side with men surrounding her, her back turned, not even looking at me. It hurt a bit. I finished my cigarette and went back inside.

Submission and trust

Trust is everything. Trust is the safety net that I rely on when I let a lover take me under, into sub space, and further, to the edges of my limits. Trust is the key ingredient that allows me to put my body, my mind and my emotions on the line when I give control away and submit to a man.

Trust must be earned; it cannot be given freely. It used to be easy to trust someone I had just met, based on some words uttered, some promises made, and some expressions that seemed to reach me on a deeper level. It was just words, the actions that followed were not always aligned and as a result, the trust was broken before it had time to develop and grow. My mind was broken with it.

Trust is caring. A Dom who can both push me to the edge of the precipice, and hold me in his arms as we both lean over to look, feel, touch, he wouldn’t let me fall. That is a caring Dom I trust. He is the man who can read the hints in my words and understand the signaling of my body to realize when to intensify, or when to take a step back. Someone who can slap me hard, and caress me tenderly and gently at the same time is the best type of Dom, who takes care of his sub.

Trust takes time. It does not appear overnight, and it is not based on one gesture or one mutual experience. I want a lover who has all the patience in the world for me, one who will guide me, gently yet firmly along this path of exploration and who will give me all the time I need to fully build up the trust required for the intense and intimate relationship that I desire so much.

Trust is fragile. It is easily broken, more so while it is taking time to build. If I am opening up to someone, putting myself on the line each time I expect a lover to meet me half way. I am giving myself fully to him and only to him, and expect him to do the same for me. I should be the only one who matters, and I want him to make me feel it on a deep, fundamental level.

Trust must be maintained. Consistency is most important, and meetings must be spaced so that the feeling of his touch is not allowed to fade from my skin. Maintaining a strong physical connection and a level of intimacy is what helps build the trust; too long a break, and we are back at the beginning.

Trust is growth. The only way to develop as a person is to have a caring partner I can trust both physically and emotionally. I want a partner who makes me want to be the best person I can be, and I will do the same for him.

Trust must not be broken. Once it’s gone, it’s almost impossible to get it back. The pain of losing trust in my lover, my partner and my Dom is the greatest pain, one that I do not wish to experience ever again.

Trust is everything. I want to build a relationship based on trust.

The first time - conclusion

It is tonight. He is taking me to a sex party. We have sent the organisers our photos, and received our confirmations along with a secret code and the address. It’s happening at a loft downtown, and I am meeting him at the bar next to the venue. I have no idea what the dress code is, and it would seem logical that everyone will be undressed in short order but I pick what I think is a classy outfit, slim semi-sheer black trousers that flatter my figure and a tight short top. I put on my nicest black lace lingerie underneath, and shave my legs in slow, sensual motions usually reserved for movies until they are silky smooth. A touch of makeup and smoky eyeliner to complete the look. Nice girls don’t do this on a Friday night.

I’m in a taxi heading downtown, I pass through various parts of the city with people going about their usual routines on a Friday night. The new crop of college graduates getting drunk in bars uptown like they’re still in their fraternities; the more sophisticated people of midtown sipping martinis in trendy bars with music so loud that conversations are impossible; the restaurant goers of the Gramercy area going on their Friday night dates; the university students milling around various coffee shops and bars like they own the city; the life artists hanging around the parks, enjoying the balmy night and dreaming big dreams; and finally the coolest lot, going out to the latest designer bars and hidden clubs in Soho, where my taxi pulls up to an unmarked door.

He meets me outside and leaves behind the nondescript bar where he’s been waiting for me, most likely getting hit on by older women, which seems to happen to all the guys I know after some out of towners watched too much of a well-known TV show and didn’t realise that it’s supposed to be a comedy, not a blueprint for a way of living. “It’s really happening tonight!” he says. The place only has five customers. He looks me over, compliments my outfit and kisses me. I feel the ground sway under my feet but he catches me by the hand, and leads me to the address we were given on our invitation.

We ring at an unmarked doorbell and go upstairs, where we are greeted by a very sexy man of medium height and a solid built with short black hair, penetrating blue eyes and an enticing smile. He’s only wearing some tight fitting boxer shorts, which makes me feel silly for worrying so much about my choice of outfit. He laughs, probably because I look like a deer in the headlights, and simply says, “You two must have come to the right place!” I feel blood rushing to my face and blush involuntarily, the first of the many blushes of the night.

We walk into a huge loft space that finishes off with a balcony overlooking the street, and another big area in the back that’s brightly lit and encompasses a kitchen. There is a tiny bedroom separating the two, and the scene inside is one I would never forget. The bed is heaving with an indeterminate number of people having sex, an orgy like you would imagine it or see in the movies, beautiful lithe bodies all tangled on top of another, legs spread, women wet, men erect, all this licking and sucking and the skin on skin slapping sounds of intercourse.  There’s lots of moaning and the smell of sweat and sex in the air, they’re clearly not new to this and they’re having a great time. Nothing has prepared me for this; I am entranced and feel my senses overwhelmed, with blood rushing to my face while I can feel myself getting extremely turned on and very wet. Feeling exposed, I need a cigarette, now. Steve goes into the kitchen to make me a drink.

Everyone at the party is pre-screened through photos, all couples or single girls, young fit and very attractive. The women smoking hot, mostly naked, striding around confidently in high heels and g strings, maybe stockings. The men are tall and muscular, some wearing briefs or boxers, some accessorised with bow ties which I find amusing. One girl emerges from the mess of the bedroom and smiles at me, then looks over at Steve and asks me,

‘How tall are you?’

‘Five foot five’, I respond.

‘How tall is he?’

‘Six foot five,’ according to the stats he sent me in his initial email and has confirmed several times since.

Her next question throws me off entirely:

‘So how does it work?’

Only later did I think of a clever reply to that; ‘it works fantastically well, thank you!’ Words escape me at the moment.

I wait for Steve to finish making drinks and find myself entranced by the threesome happening on the living room floor. The guy is lying down on his back, and a brunette girl is on top riding him while a red haired one is sitting on his face, the two girls facing each other, touching, kissing, and moaning intensely. That’s so hot! Much hotter than the movies. I continue to watch as they switch around, with the redhead now straddling him and lowering herself onto him while the brunette lies down next to him in such a way as to give the redhead access to her pussy to be licked. I can’t believe I’m so turned on right now! Steve comes to me with my drink, and we head to the balcony to get some fresh air.

A couple of cigarettes outside and a drink help me relax, we meet some other people standing out there, fully dressed and all too happy to share their stories, they’re all at the party with their partners, they’ve been together for years, some are married, some living together but all in serious relationships that just happen to include swinging. This is all the more amusing when it’s one part of the couple doing the talking, while their other half is somewhere in the mess of bodies in the bedroom having sex with other people. Periodically someone emerges from the bedroom and goes to the balcony to recruit new joiners to the orgy. Eventually one of the girls is convinced, and leaves us to go have sex.

Steve and I talk some more and return to the living room, where we sit down and he starts kissing me. The host passes by and comments how at this rate, we’ll be having sex by this time tomorrow. He begins to undress me when the girl who was with us on the balcony earlier returns and starts chatting to us again. This time she’s not wearing anything, her long blonde hair loose and tousled from her tumble on the orgy bed, her face glowing and her soft skin giving off the enticing and ever present smell of sex. She helps him with my clothes, caresses me, her lips touch my lips then suck on my nipples before she takes my hand and leads me away from my little safety zone and to the orgy bed. She kisses me some more and I feel other hands on me, soft woman’s hands and I turn around to find myself facing the dark haired girl who’s asked me the uncomfortable questions earlier. She kisses me some more, and I feel more hands. This time they’re the rougher hands of a man, who turns out to be wearing only a bow tie and a charming smile. More touching and more kissing, he takes me and lays me down on the bed, spreading my legs.

I try to see where Steve went but can’t find him, he must have gone to the bathroom but it doesn’t matter now, there are hands everywhere, all over me, mens’, womens’, touching, teasing, caressing and slipping down between my legs where I’m beyond excited and ridiculously wet. After what seems like ages, the man with the bow tie penetrates me and it’s the familiar motions of sex, it feels good and exciting and also new, with this man whose name I didn’t catch surrounded by beautiful people I have only met tonight all in this amazing experience together. My mind goes and I arch my back, enjoying myself immensely. Time seems to fly and stand still at will in this place, and when I open my eyes I am not sure how long this has been going on but realise that Steve is standing over me, undressed this time, stroking his erection that I adore so much and looking down at me, smiling. The guy pulls out from inside me and moves away, and I can’t think of anything else now as I take Steve’s cock in my mouth, I want him inside of me and I don’t want this night to stop. He hesitates a bit, suggests that I should play with his friend, but I say no so he turns me over and gets me on all fours before penetrating me from behind. This is it. This is the real deal. This is the experience, the joy, the ecstasy. I notice there’s only one couple left on the bed next to us, the curly haired girl and the guy with the bow tie, they’re in the same position as us, the men performing the same motion, the girl and I touch each other and I’m not sure how long it is before we all orgasm at the same time, the men as well. I turn over and smile, at no one in particular, maybe the brunette next to me, maybe Steve, maybe the Italian girl who seems to have appeared again, maybe at myself. I feel fulfilled like I have never been fulfilled before in my life.