Hidden In Plain Sight

Nothing like a little bit of breath play on your Sunday drive ?

‘When she arrives, you will be kneeling over the coffee table, hooded, with your ass cheeks spread open,’ He said. ‘She is going to enter the house and I will prepare her, then she will kneel behind you and lick your ass, and then your cunt.’

“Yes, Sir.”

I had been eagerly awaiting this moment all day… or all week… or all my life. At least since He told me she was coming. The thought of never seeing her face nor knowing who she is, excited me in a way that felt like going on an adventure down the rabbit hole of curiosity. My favourite adventure.

‘This isn’t about you,’ He said. ‘You’re an accessory. Here to simply do as you’re told.’

I nod. I understand.

Observing Him as they negotiated, I couldn’t help but be in awe. Curating a scene is something I had never seen the behind the scenes of before, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t find it fascinating to witness. How much thought and preparation, both internal and external, went into the process! Thinking about how He would not only find His enjoyment, but meet the needs of everyone involved. I gained a very new level of respect for Dominants, and for Him… which only grew more and more.

He had told me little snippets about her and her past, however nothing too private or personal. They had a history together of having met and played and had maintained a connection over time. His soft spot for her was obvious. So I was curious about this creature who had suddenly popped up back into His life, and now into mine. Who is she? What is her life like? What will she be like? Will she like me?

Having never really been with a woman, I was both excited and nervous. I know how much women scrutinise other women, so it was odd to find myself preparing for her more meticulously than I had ever prepared for a man. I shaved perfectly. Made sure my hair was conditioned perfectly. Scrutinised everything I could to remove any possibility of there being anything that was within my control to be perfect, missed. How strange. Women scare me, because they can be so emotionally harmful. For some reason their scrutiny cuts so deep. They notice things men don’t notice or even care about. Thankfully though, He was controlling everything, so I knew I was safe. This allowed the excitement to be the more prevalent feeling. I was nervous about being used in this way though. I don’t particularly like being licked out, nor is it a comfortable position for me to be in to be “above” someone else… especially sexually. But that is what they had negotiated. And I was the accessory, to be used however needed. And that’s how I was needed. There was also a spark of curiosity. How strange to witness “my role” from an outside perspective. A part of me, of course, wanted to know how it seemed.

*******

She arrived earlier than expected. We had just gotten out of the shower and were still drying ourselves when there was a knock at the door.

‘Put your hood on and get into position,’ He said.

I did so.

I heard Him speak softly, and heard a soft reply. She seemed so timid.

I lay across the coffee table, my hands holding my ass cheeks apart, feeling the coolness against my body, waiting… anticipating…

There were gentle whispers as I knew He was hooding her also. We were both to be hooded, and I was to be plugged… after she had licked my ass.

His tone changed and I heard Him give her a command. There was a little squeak of compliance and suddenly a tongue plunged into my ass. It felt… weird. Did I like it? It’s not something I’d ask someone to do for me, however, I didn’t dislike it.

‘Take notice, slave,’ He said to me. ‘This cunt knows how to lick ass.’ Something He has been trying to teach me to do better.

He then told her to move, and shuffled between us, making her lick His ass, while He entered me. After a moment, this shifted as He pulled out, told her to clean His cock and then to lay on her back on the floor, instructing me to lean back over her so she could lick my pussy. As He inserted my plug, He made her pause, telling her how this is what a real slave is, degrading and humiliating her with names and words… managing to degrade and humiliate us both in different ways, on opposite sides of the same coin. Me, by pushing me “up” into a position I’m uncomfortable with, and her, by tearing her down as far as she had asked to go.

She began to cry. My heart gave way and everything changed for me in that moment. It was no longer simply a sexual adventure. There was such intimacy. A tenderness. An overwhelming urge came over me to want to make her feel good. To help her get what she wanted from this. To be the softness she needed as He took her to the place she wanted Him to take her.

He told me to kiss her, and I cradled her face in my hands and tenderly kissed her lips. So soft. Her skin was like velvet. And she smelled amazing. I’ve never felt so comfortable kissing someone so quickly before. But it was beautiful. I wanted her to feel good, but I also didn’t want to feel like I was trying to control where we went. I could feel a bond forming between us, as she gently kissed me back, tracing my arms with her fingertips… a sisterhood. He ordered her back to His ass, and me to sucking His cock. We moved to the bedroom, where I then truly witnessed the magic of what was occurring. Whilst I sucked His cock and licked His balls, the agreed terms of what they had negotiated began to come to light. Her sounds, and His gentle demeanour as He whispered cruel things into her ear. There was such an intimacy between them that there was a moment where I felt like an intruder. I wanted to crawl away, move out of the space and the moment and leave them to share it alone. He felt my shift and gruffly told me to focus on my part. So I did.

As He was about to cum, He asked her if she was ready. I heard a soft whimper that I had come to learn suggested she was. ‘Remember, if you swallow, I will beat you,’ He said firmly. Did I hear that correctly, I wondered? Surely not. Perhaps He had said that He would beat her if she didn’t swallow, and I had simply misheard?

Shifting away, I heard the sounds of Him cumming, and her moans of desire and satisfaction and pleasure.

‘Do Not swallow!’ He said as He came, and as her mouth collected everything He had for her. ‘Pass it to the slave.’ Ok… I felt that stir between my legs. How hot!

I leaned over and we kissed again as she slipped His cum into my mouth. I gently licked her lips and her chin, collecting all of what was being shared, and swallowed it down.

‘Clean my cock. Both of you,’ He said.

She held and gently stroked, as we licked and cleaned what was left.

Pulling me up into His armpit, I snuggled in while he spoke softly with her asking if she needed anything. She had declined aftercare in their negotiations and had decided she simply wanted to leave afterwards. I had asked Him to make sure she didn’t need anything that maybe I could even prepare for her… a cup of coffee or a snack.

She declined and left.

I’ll never know how that was for her, but I hope it was what she was seeking. Upon reflection I saw that it was so much beyond what I had expected an experience like this could be. It wasn’t “just” kinky sex. It was an agreed arrangement to create an experience of love and connection and intimacy and healing from a very traumatic past. I will not share her story, and I don’t know a lot of it, but I came to see just how magical it was. And I became so honoured to have been a part of that. My respect for Him shifted to new levels as I realised the gift He had given her. How much He had given of Himself to give her that gift. How much she had given Him in return. And how special a moment it was between them. Perhaps there was a little bit of magic for all of us that night. 

Standing in your own way:

Sometimes our struggle can make things look bad in the eyes of others. And when we try to explain our struggle, it can make things look worse. More often than not, our friends and family will band together with us in support and tell us it’s not us, it’s the Other.

But… what if it’s not? Or what if it is more that it’s both of you breaking it together?

Not long ago I met a Man. Things felt so right. Despite my years of preparing myself and creating a list of wants and needs and expectations and an image of how I thought everything would be, jumping in faster than anyone was happy with, I then also methodically let go of almost all of the “standards” I had put in place. Needless to say, this alarmed everyone around me. ‘What are you doing?!’ they kept asking. “To be honest, I don’t know,” I would reply. Yes… He wasn’t what I had said I wanted. He is far from perfect. He is messy and immoral and selfish. He smokes and drinks and is unfit and unhealthy. He knows nothing of protocol and isn’t particularly active within the BDSM community. To the naked eye, He is almost the complete opposite of everything I had put in place of what I wouldn’t accept less than. And yet, there was something my heart saw in Him enough to say, “Him… I choose Him.”

The things that aren’t so obvious is that He is loyal and He is kind and He is selfless in ways that matter to me. He fights for what He believes in. He protects what’s His, and what’s His is family. He is loved. And He is loved by amazing people. That tells me a lot. He accepts flaws… both in Himself and others. Mostly though? He makes me laugh. He makes me feel good… and bad. There is something natural about how His dominance… or more… His essence… reaches into me, and I simply can’t find the words to explain it. These things… these subtle things that can’t be seen unless one pays attention and looks beyond the obvious… those are the.things. Those are the things I love about Him. The things I couldn’t put words to. The things that despite our struggles, make me want to keep trying. He is worth fighting for. What I didn’t realise was that the war was within myself.

He triggers the shit out of me. This journey with Him has been so challenging, I can no longer count the times I’ve almost walked away. And vice versa for Him. In fact recently we did end things. But here I am, sitting on His lounge once again… this very lounge where not that long ago I felt I had found a home, contemplating everything. I was worried about Him being alone, and funnily enough He was worried about the very same for me. So we had a very real conversation. And then we had another one. And another one. We were finally honest about everything. Who knew there could be levels to honesty? And then we spent a day together as friends. And it was awesome. I realised what I had been missing by carrying this idea that my mind had created of what M/s and myself as a slave, and He as a Master, “should” look like. I was missing out on sharing the best parts of me with Him. And I was missing out on seeing the best parts of Him. Because there was a veil of “should” shrouding everything my eyes looked upon between us. It occurred to me that this whole time, the struggle has been Him trying to strip away an idea I had created and was fighting tooth and nail to keep. A plan that needed to be stuck to… no matter what. Even at the cost of us.

Being with Him has made me question everything. Everything. Especially myself as a slave. I realised that for me it’s not about the frills… it’s about the person. I realised that despite everything I have said here over the years, I will gladly let go of all of it to conform to what He asked of me. That is how I am as a slave. It doesn’t matter to me how it looks to others. I don’t care if we seem vanilla. If He is my Master, I will know it, deep in my bones. Deep in the places that matter to me, and hopefully to Him. The complete irony of it all is that all He has been asking of me is to be myself… my real self… not an idea of how I think I should be.

During this journey I have reached out to everyone I know and love and respect and cherish, seeking guidance. Because I knew this was what I really wanted, and I knew I was fucking it up. I could see it all slipping through my fingers, and had no idea how to stop that from happening. I even went to those I figured would tell me to pull my head in. That didn’t happen. Finally I went to a beloved friend. And she gave me precisely what I needed. Help. Help in the way I needed. She gave me guidance to look at what I needed to take responsibility for, and the kick in the butt to let go of what needed to be let go of. Her wisdom astounds me. And it has shown me the value of having the right support. Those who understand and know intimately what it’s like for your specific journey. Those who will hear that you don’t want to give up just yet, so will stand in your corner, even if it may be a mistake.

He and I are not back together. Officially. But we have something. We are trying to create our own something. We are letting go of how it “should” look. How we “should” be. And we are just being us. And I have to say, it feels great! In so many ways He has brought me back to life. Brought me back into the world. The “me” I had forgotten about, and thought I couldn’t bring on this journey. I hadn’t realised how small I had made myself… that I was disappearing. How can I not love Him for that?

I am letting go of expectations and a need for outcome. I’m just going to enjoy myself for a while and see where life takes me.

Yes, I see the hypocrisy in it all. Believe me I see it. I have turned my back on everything I have said over the years. The box I had created for myself. I’ve changed my mind. And to be honest, I’m trying to learn to no longer judge myself so harshly for changing my mind in life. I didn’t realise that what was making me so exhausted was trying to stick to a plan that I had created in my mind of how everything needed to be. Tending daily to the “story.” Even if things don’t work out between us, I feel more free than I have in a long time. Am I a slave? Many would now say, no. And to be perfectly honest… I’m ok with that. It is not a community that I kneel to. It is one Man. And I will kneel however He wants me to… if He wants that of me. Perhaps that makes me more of a free-range slave ?

And had to share it:

*this is not my writing*

‘What works for us’

‘So many times I keep hearing or getting variants on the question, "How do you make it work?"
My answer in a nutshell is this:’

‘We ask for what we need and negotiate for what we want, we're as honest as we know how to be on every issue, we listen intently and with kindness, love unreservedly, and forgive ourselves and each other when we make mistakes.’
 

Sometimes it’s the simplest wisdom that has the most profundity.

We agreed that it is O/our desire to have more than one female serving Him as O/our household. Not common, I know. I don’t speak in the context of a “poly” household… it is a “harem”… yes, a very dirty word in this way of life. It has taken me quite some journey to not feel ashamed of wanting this. It always catches judgement on the tendrils of the BDSM community online, and I’ve come to accept that that’s simply something I can’t control, nor am I going to give it any more energy or focus than is necessary. Those who are genuinely curious will learn for themselves, and those who simply want to judge will always judge regardless of what I share. So… c’est la vie.

He’s kind of been looking, but not really. Not to the point of anything becoming real. A girl here and there almost turned to meets, but they always fell through for some reason… none quite compatible. Everything is on the table. Whilst I’m not privy to their private exchanges and conversations, I know that if I ask, He will show me (I don’t ask), however, He always tells me of the girls He’s speaking with, the general way in which the conversation is going, and shows me their profile.

Last night everything shifted. He showed me her profile and my heart sank. They are super, super compatible. Like, in every way. Not only that… I know she meets so many of His preferences. There was a pang… a panic that slowly arose somewhere deep in my soul. It didn’t feel like jealousy. It felt like loss. I realised that despite the hard work and effort W/we have put in to building this beautiful thing W/we have together, there are some things that simply can’t be overcome. And fate or serendipity or just the basic *rightness* of two people, is something that no amount of anything can “artificially” create.

I stalked her profile for about an hour, looking at all of her activity, words, pictures… just to get a “vibe.” And the conclusion was the same… she is perfect for Him.

Fuck.

I really, really, really didn’t want to face it. But I knew if I didn’t I would just slowly retreat and push Him away until there was a good enough reason for me to say “see? we won’t work.” Basically, I could feel myself pulling my running shoes down off the shelf.

I don’t know about you, but having to face myself as not being enough, is super horribly difficult. Soul shattering actually. I realised that I go above and beyond because I truly do not want to see that at times, as I am, and even *who I am*, is not enough. Under the right circumstances, we all fall short. And I simply can’t believe that any person is so important that we should overlook the realistic and important aspects. Also, there is absolutely no way that I could consider myself more important than someone finding their happiness. So I had to sit with the realisation that no matter what, I can never be everything. Something I thought I had accepted… yet clearly, had not really, on a deep level of understanding and acceptance.

Sitting in the discomfort and simply observing what was there with curiosity, something strange occurred. I realised that it’s ok.

It is perfectly ok for me to not be the “right” one. Or the “everything” one. (Ouch, poor ego). I also realised that I would sure as hell not stand in front of the possibility of them finding each other… regardless of how much it might end in the possibility of a broken heart. I simply could not live with the selfishness of that.

After realising this, I brought it to Him. Bared my fears. Took my running shoes off, and instead, opened my heart to show Him what was going on. I’m tired of trying to control outcomes in life. I will control the things I can… me and my thoughts and feelings, and how I share that and myself and my fears and vulnerability with others… more specifically, Him. I made a promise to give Him all of me, and will keep that promise for as long as it is necessary. By being brave enough to open that doorway, it allowed U/us to talk and connect in a new way, and even have a laugh about the situation. I love Him with all my heart. That means His happiness is important to me.

Releasing my fears brought with it the realisation that I am who I have always thought. It showed that if given the chance, I do love the way I thought I did. It may seem super one-sided, but it really, truly isn’t. He gives me a safe space to be able to face these fears in myself, and to be able to bring them to Him, and to be able to grow in the ways W/we both know I want to. These are the places that nourish my soul in a way that I had hoped, but had no idea of how that may occur. With each step, W/we set each other free in ways unimagined.

This will be hard. Of that I’ve no doubt. Change is hard. The fears are still there, however, at least they’re no longer hidden in dark places. We have looked at them and spoken to them. I trust Him. What happens from here, I don’t know…

It’s the little things that hurt. Tear at the heart and soul. An ignored message. A vague, distant response.

The feeling of being let in… and then removed.

It only hurts when conditions are placed on everything though.

On my love.

When I remember to choose to give my love freely, it doesn’t hurt anymore.

I can love from near. And I can love from afar.

I can love as I walk towards. And I can love as I walk away…

That there are 85 pages of public blogs, written by different people?

Going back 6 years.

How cool is that?

You will hate yoga for the first year. This is what I tell everyone who decides they want to try it. Why do I tell them this? Because it’s the truth. There are no quick fixes with yoga. There is no adrenaline rush. There is a little dopamine hit… but nothing like compared to running or gym or something like CrossFit.

It will make you feel awkward, clumsy, uncoordinated, and weak… if you’re doing it properly… and have a good teacher.

Sounds appealing right? Lol.

After a year you begin to understand what yoga is truly about. It’s about learning your body. Connecting with it. Getting to know it. And accepting it. I don’t mean acceptance in the sense of the “body love” movement. I mean you truly come to understand it’s strengths, it’s weaknesses, it’s idiosyncrasies… because trust me, we all have them… and we learn that it’s ok. Our body is unique. And it is ours. It is our responsibility to care for. And it will do exactly as we tell it to, within the scope of its accepted capabilities. We begin to understand the meaning of control when it comes to our body. The quality of (sustainable) effort we put in, is a direct reflection of what it gives us back. Let me say that again… 

The *quality* of (sustainable) effort we put into our body, is a direct reflection of what it gives us back.

That is what yoga teaches.

But to truly learn that to a point of *understanding* deeply within our bones, takes time… and dedication. And what I love most? There are no shortcuts.

Once this lesson has been learned, it can be applied anywhere in life. It doesn’t have to be. We can still choose to take shortcuts in life. We will still get quick fixes and instant satisfaction, with a lot less effort. However, applying the yogic philosophy, gives us very different results. Quality.

The only reason I started this blog this way was because I woke up thinking about yoga. It is a passion of mine. I have practiced and loved yoga for over 15 years. However, it wasn’t until I trained to become a teacher that my true love affair with it began. That’s when I began to see it as a life philosophy more than just some poses and stretches. I feel like that’s when I truly began to understand the gift it gives us. Breath and movement. That is life in its most simplistic form.

Ok ok, enough about yoga already.

As I woke up in my neglected bedroom, in my share house, this morning, it occurred to me that although I had considered myself having been in a few relationships since my marriage, there had always been factors that didn’t make it “quite real.” Don’t get me wrong, it felt real… emotionally it was very real. However, even being emotionally invested, every other part of my life remained untouched by the other person. I never neglected my room, or came home to strangers as housemate’s because I rarely saw them anymore. It had never been all encompassing. We’d never gone on walks with each others friends, or played scrabble, or snuggled on a couch. It had become so familiar to me that these things simply weren’t part of my relationships, that I forgot they existed. So much so, that it has been a struggle to remember how to physically connect with someone in the day-to-day. And considering the last person I actually did that with was my ex-husband, it has also been confronting at times, and painful at times, and sad at times. Having said that though… it has also been nourishing beyond belief. My soul finally feels alive again. I hadn’t realised how shrivelled it had become. I am a tactile person. And to be honest, it may sound weird, but there is nothing better for me on this planet, than to lay snuggled up against Him, my body following every detail of His, my head nestled into His shoulder, my face in His armpit, just smelling His scent. lol yeah I’m weird. But those things… touch, warmth, smell, the sounds of His body, His heartbeat. It just simultaneously transports me to heaven, and brings me solely to that moment of U/us, suspended in time. I wish I could bottle it. If there was a “thing,” that would be my ultimate addiction. My ultimate drug.

What on earth does this have to do with yoga?

What I forgot about was how hard relationships are. Trying to mesh two lives together in a way that makes you both feel like it’s worth it. I often hear people speaking of NRE… New Relationship Energy, and how much they love it and how addictive it can be. Yeah, not for me. I hate it. I hate building new relationships. It’s difficult and painful and super vulnerable for me. And to be honest, trying to do it as an adult, mindfully, makes it even more difficult. I always “fell into” relationships more than anything, throughout my life. So trying to do everything with thought and chosen action, is very new territory for me. And there have been many stuff ups along the way. I literally feel like a toddler learning to walk again. It feels like I’ve no experience to go by from my past. Add to that, the desire to try to shift from past negative behavioural patterns and habits, and that adds a whole new fun twist.

But over time… each time we overcome a hurdle… we get a little bit stronger. We trust a little more in the structure of what we’re building and creating. We come to understand that it takes time. And it takes learning. It takes connection. And it takes practice… dedication.

Ahhh… are you beginning to see?

When I apply what I say about yoga, to my struggles…

“You will hate (intimacy) for the first year. This is what I tell everyone who decides they want to try it. Why do I tell them this? Because it’s the truth. There are no quick fixes with (intimacy). There is no adrenaline rush. There is a little dopamine hit… but nothing like compared to (quick fixes).

It will make you feel awkward, clumsy, uncoordinated, and weak… if you’re doing it properly… and have a good teacher.

Sounds appealing right? Lol.

After a year you begin to understand what (intimacy) is truly about. It’s about learning your (relationship). Connecting with it. Getting to know it. And accepting it. I don’t mean acceptance in the sense of the (how we think it “should” be) movement. I mean you truly come to understand it’s strengths, it’s weaknesses, it’s idiosyncrasies… because trust me, we all have them… and we learn that it’s ok. Our (relationship) is unique. And it is ours. It is our responsibility to care for. And it will do exactly as we tell it to, within the scope of its accepted capabilities. We begin to understand the meaning of control when it comes to our (relationship). The quality of (sustainable) effort we put in, is a direct reflection of what it gives us back. Let me say that again…

The *quality* of (sustainable) effort we put into our (relationship), is a direct reflection of what it gives us back.

That is what yoga teaches.

But to truly learn that to a point of *understanding* deeply within our bones, takes time… and dedication. And what I love most? There are no shortcuts.”

… there is a GentleMan somewhere who reminds me that Chivalry isn’t yet dead. I love this ?

I love Men. Thank You for being You. Thank you for making me feel special, it truly is valued and appreciated.

“Parallel lines have so much in common..
It’s a shame they’ll never meet.”

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