The Morning After Thrill…

The morning after Amy and I first introduced BDSM into our bedroom was almost just as thrilling as the previous night’s acts had been. That palpable tension was still hanging in the air when we awoke. I got out of bed walking a little taller. Amy had a little wiggle to her walk that had been absent for so long, I had forgotten it was missing.

When I got out of the shower she was in the kitchen fixing breakfast for the kids. She was stood at the same place at the counter she had made my cocktail the night before, wearing the same robe. I walked up behind her and pressed my body into hers, deja vu. I took firm hold of her hips and kissed her neck, easily accessible because that messy bun was still there to keep her hair out of my way. Normally she would try to waive me off, “Stop. Can you get the kids their juice?” Something to that effect. Not today though. She melted, just a little. “Good morning my good little slut.” I whispered in her ear. I could feel the tiniest little shiver work its way up her body.

She turned to face me and we exchanged a long deep kiss, not the usual morning peck we had grown so accustomed to. She broke free and placed her hands on my chest, I could she was blushing. “Go sit down, I’ll bring you your coffee.” Her eyes stayed locked with mine as she said it.

“What the hell is this?” I thought to myself, as I took my seat at the table. Amy and I were always so busy seeing to the kids in the morning that the thought of my wife bringing me a cup of coffee seemed foreign. There was a lot that didn’t add up. Why weren’t we running around like crazy people? Why had we not had our first argument of the day yet? Am I in the wrong house? For about a half a second I allowed my my mind to entertain the possibility that my dick held magic powers. That wasn’t it though. Right? No that wasn’t it.

The prior evening was hot and sexy, and more than that, a tremendous absolution of some pent up dark desires. What the hell did it have to do with order falling over our house though? How did tying Amy up and smacking her on the ass earn me table service? The truth is I didn’t really care all that much about the answers to those questions. Not at that exact moment anyhow.

What I was most concerned about at that very instant was doing it all again, and then some, and soon. I wanted to feel again what I had felt last night. The power and control, the scratching of a certain forbidden itch, I could already feel the addictive nature of this thing. Could I bring that out of her again when I got home from work? Two nights in a row, unheard of these days. More importantly, now I knew I needed a little planning, Winging it was only going to get me so far.

I had six hours before I had to leave for my shift and Amy and I spent the whole time going about our daily activities as we always did. There was something going on though, there was that magnetic push and pull, again. Knowing glances as we got the kids dressed. If our hands accidentally grazed one another while passing something back and forth there was an electrical charge passed between them. I couldn’t let her just walk by without touching her in some way.

I spent the whole eight hours of my work day playing out scenarios in my head, like a coach coming up with plays before a big game. “Ok, so if I start out with her over there and we engage in x,y,z, it makes the most sense to move her this way and go into a,b,c.” I wanted to control and manage every second of our time together. Sometimes I’d hit mental stumbling blocks. “No, that’s no good,” I’d think. “How can you get her on her hands and knees quickly if she’s still tied to the bed at that point?” Little pieces of exhilarating minutia like that, running through my mind on a loop.

Words. Words, were important, I needed to think about what I wanted to say. I couldn’t just slow walk around the room calling her a “good slut.” That would get old quickly. It wasn’t very sexy and it also didn’t appropriately convey the gravity of what we were stepping into.

Gravity, as it happens is going to become an integral word on this blog. We’re going to talk more about that down the line when I share my personal D/s philosophy that I went on to develop. I was nowhere near the point of philosophy at this moment though. I just really wanted to engage in some more down and dirty, kinky sex with my wife.

The texts had started coming in the moment I had pulled into the parking lot at work that day. Amy wasn’t always comfortable talking about sex out loud. She preferred to address it in text. “What the hell was that last night!?” Was the first I received from her. “You asked for it.” I shot back. The foreplay was already beginning. We text each other back and forth, egging the other one on, for the next eight hours. All while I worked on planning what I was going to do when I got home and finally got my hands on her again. I don’t recall the exact words I used in my last message to her before I left for home that night, but roughly it went like this…

“I’m leaving here in thirty minutes. You need to go get in the shower, I want you ready for me when I get home.” I went on to tell her exactly what underwear I wanted her to be wearing. I told her to put her hair up the way I liked. I told her to make herself a drink and to sit down and not worry about whatever it was she was doing at the moment. I wanted her relaxed when I got home. I wanted to be greeted by the same woman I met the night before. As it happens, I was.

We talked briefly when I got home, about the kids, about how our respective days went. It was formality, we both knew it. Before long we found ourselves in the bedroom. Lying on our sides, I began massaging her back and shoulders. All the while she pressed her ass back against me with all her might while I pressed right back with all of mine. To touch her again, to feel that electricity once more, felt just as good as any vanilla sex we had ever had before.

After a while I worked my hands down below her waist. The underwear that I had told her to wear were soaked. I placed my lips next to her ear and whispered. “What we’re doing right now, I don’t want it to ever stop, I never want to go back. I want us to feel like this every last second of the day. Do you want that too, you little slut?” “Yes Sir,” she moaned. “Good”, I growled as pounced on her and took her by the hair, “I thought I told you to put this fucking hair up.”

Beware The Fish That Jumps Into The Boat…

I don’t have a set posting schedule in mind for this new little project of mine. I write when I can find the time. That being said, I don’t plan on ever having such a long gap between posts as this last one has been.

As I said last time, we have some time traveling to do. Now that you know how the D/s relationship between Amy and I got kicked off, let’s go back ten years to explore how our vanilla one began. To fully appreciate the moment the wheels fall off of this car, you must first grasp how it was built, from the frame up.

We met the same way many people do today, online. This was before the big surge of dating apps hit the scene but there were plenty of websites out there, we had both tried them all. I was becoming increasingly frustrated with the whole process. Putting time and effort into communicating with someone over a period of time only to be ghosted, catfished, or letdown by who they prove to be in real life. I had adopted a new policy. If a woman seemed interesting, genuine, and sane, I would ask her out very quickly. Real life happens in real life so I figured it was best to just cut to the chase.

I had another policy. I didn’t reach out to women who didn’t appear as though they had put any thought or time into their profile. Yes, I see from your pictures that you’re hot. So what? That’s all that you want and need any interested parties to know? I was in my mid-twenties and looking to establish a real connection with someone, just being sexy wasn’t enough for me. I figured if you can’t be bothered to put in a little work attracting the right man, you’re not going to put in the work that a relationship requires. I had seen Amy’s profile and glossed right over it. She was a beautiful girl, but aside from a few pictures her profile was essentially blank.

She reached out to me first. Just a few words to my inbox, the equivalent of a bashful wave from across the room. I responded and we went back and forth over the course of a few hours. We had similar tastes in music and were from the same approximate area. She had a good sense of humor which is very important to me. So I instituted my policy, I asked her out to dinner as we were winding down. “Let’s just rip off the bandaid.” I thought to myself. She accepted and we agreed to meet a few days later.

I got to the restaurant early and made sure to seat myself on the side of the table that faced the door. I glanced over every time someone new walked in. I was ready for the laundry list of possibilities any internet dater preps for. The no show, the person who used a picture that was taken five years and fifty pounds ago, the crazy girl who can keep it together in an online exchange, I had met them all. I never encountered the one scenario that I feared most. The forty five year old plumber named Steve who knows he lied about what he looks like, but he’s really Amy on the inside and he just knows that we can be happy together. Thankfully that one never played out, but we’ve all feared it, let’s be honest.

Then there she was. She looked just like her picture, she really was a beautiful girl. She scanned the room and I stood as our eyes met. We did the standard “Hi N’ Hug” that generally precipitates these types of meetings and sat down. She looked so nervous. We each ordered a drink and I did my best to get her to settle in and relax. It’s hard to explain the feeling she conjured up in me. Somehow she seemed so fragile, like if you touched her she would break.

As we talked I noticed that she hadn’t even glanced at her menu. I asked if she already knew what she wanted to order and she told me she wasn’t hungry. I certainly wasn’t going to eat a meal in front of someone who wasn’t eating, especially on a first date, so I made a suggestion. The restaurant sat on the corner of a street that was lined with bars and pubs. I asked her if she would like to take a little walk and pop into one or two of them. I thought that maybe her nerves would be calmer if she wasn’t stuck sat at a table staring at a stranger.

She liked the idea, and just like that, we were off into the night. That night, as it turns out, would last for twelve hours. We wouldn’t just pop into one or two bars, we hit all of them and then some. The fragile girl who seemed almost to shy to speak at the restaurant? She damn near drank me under the table. From that night on we would be joined at the hip. In fact, in one month’s time we would be living together. It all seemed to perfect to be true, because in the end, it was.

Next time we’ll talk more dirty BDSM stuff. Think of my whole story as a meal, posts like this are the vegetables. Of course you will eat your vegetables, and drink eight glasses of water a day, and…

Fucking TikTok… (Cont.)

Well, allow to pick up where I left off. I’m going to use the same disclaimer here that I did on my last post. Amy and I did what a lot of people do, dove head first into all of this without having the knowledge of how it all works or what it’s all about. I made mistakes and I’m going to share them on this blog. I’m not excusing my actions, but I think it’s important to keep in mind that I always tried to learn from my missteps and allow them to make me a better Dom to Amy. What follows is an accounting of our first power exchange bedroom encounter. Spoiler alert, it went incredibly well, but that was just luck. At the end of the day we hadn’t negotiated any of it, and being as this was our first time, I had no way of intuiting what was truly in or out of bounds for my submissive. That all being said, here is how that first night, the night that changed our marriage forever, unfolded.

I stood in the doorway for a moment and looked at her lying there in the dark, the covers pulled up to her chin. I could tell that amidst all the sexual tensionin built up between us that she was nervous. I only hoped she couldn’t sense that I was too. I climbed into bed beside her and lowered the comforter and began caressing her body. We slowly worked our way to sitting upright just as my left hand found it’s way to her pussy. We had needed to use lubricant for years, I could feel that would not be necessary tonight. With my free hand I grabbed hold of her hair and pulled her ear toward my lips. “You want me to be in charge? You want to do as I say?” I growled, not recognizing my own voice. She didn’t tense up, she didn’t try to get away. She melted into me. “Yes”, she moaned. I released her hair and gave her a light slap to the face. “I told you to put this hair up.” There was that voice again. As I slapped her with my right hand my left hand was greeted by a tsunami down below. This was working, she was into it. She dutifully reached over to the night stand, retrieved a hair tie, and put her hair up in a messy bun. The way that I liked it, but that she rarely wore it.

“Good girl.” I told her, “Now walk to the dresser and bring me a bandanna from the top drawer.” I knew that this was a big ask. The dresser was across the room and Amy was very uncomfortable with being seen naked, even in the dark. She had no reason to be so hung about her body, she looked great, but she was uncomfortable about it nonetheless. She did it though, without hesitation. I couldn’t believe it. As she closed the dresser drawer I rose from the bed and blocked her return to it. “You are such a sexy little slut.” I told her, wanting her to know that I thought she looked good. I took the bandanna from her and began folding it into an impromptu blindfold. “Now kneel.” I instructed her. She didn’t skip a beat. Here was my ordinarily bodily self conscious, sexually uptight wife kneeling naked in front of me.

I ran the back of my hand down her cheek and carefully arranged her hair then blindfolded her. I grabbed hold of the messy bun she had just made and told her, “You’re going to suck my cock now, and I think you should thank me for letting you do it.” I didn’t know, still don’t actually, where those words came from. I was shocked that the phrase had come out of me. I was even more shocked when she thanked me and wrapped her mouth around me. Blowjobs grew on trees when we were dating a decade ago. They were bountiful. However, Amy had officially given up the practice on our wedding night, two years into our relationship. Heaven, it felt like absolute heaven to be in her warm, wet mouth again after so long. Looking down at her it was hard to believe that this was my wife.

I had a problem here, I had no idea what to do next, I was just amazed I had gotten this far. It was like losing my virginity for a second time. After she had sucked me for a few minutes I tugged up on her hair with one hand, grabbed her arm with the other and slowly got her to her feet. “You are not move from this spot. Do you understand, my good little slut?” “Yes.” She responded, still blindfolded and whispering toward the direction my voice had come from. I was glad I had blindfolded her. This way she could not see me make a naked mad dash toward our closet, frantically searching for something to tie her up with. I emerged a moment later with two neck ties, Amy’s little purple vibrator, and the realization that I would have to plan better next time. I hoped desperately that there would be a next time.

I dragged the ties across her chest and she shivered ever so slightly. That little shiver was so incredibly hot. I took her hands, crossed them in front of her, and bound them together. I gave her a deep kiss while I massaged her dripping nether region and then I tossed her backwards onto the bed. With her feet still on the floor and her back laid out on the bed I dropped to my knees and returned the oral attention. She began going wild, I grabbed hold of her tied hands and told her she was not to move and not to cum without permission. As I returned to the act at hand I could feel her tensing and straining to not move. I was really getting off on the effort she was putting in to be obedient. After a few minutes she couldn’t control herself anymore. Her ass starting lifting up off the bed and she began moaning intensely. I still had control of her hands with my left hand, I lifted my right hand high and came down with it on her inner thigh. It made the most incredible sound, and so did she. I lifted my hand again and came down on the other thigh. She writhed a little, I didn’t know if it was from pleasure or pain, and I don’t think she did either.

I am a self confessed ass man. I love tits, don’t get me wrong, tits are super. I love legs, especially thick thighs. Eyes, hair, hips, lips, hell even earlobes, everything that comprises a woman, super sexy. Boy, do I love an ass though. For years Amy wondered how it was that she could bend over to pick something up and I could sense it from across the house and be there in milliseconds to give her ass a little love tap. I wanted this next part badly, I desperately wanted to spank her. Not a few awkward wristed swats mid- doggy style. I wanted to spank her for real, for no other reason than the act itself. Not playfully, not incorporated into something else. I sat on the bed and hesitated before I was able to get the words out. “I want you to lay across my lap now. You’re going to get spanked you good little slut.” She hesitated for only a second and then carefully started feeling her way toward me. I placed my hands under her armpits and slowly helped guide her into position. Looking down at her splayed out across me, giving herself over to me, I finally started to grasp what this was all about. What the meaning was to this desire that had been caged in me for so long. She had given me all of her power. I didn’t take it, and she could take it back with her safe word, but for right now she was letting me hold on to it. The abstract understanding I held of Dominance and submission got a whole lot clearer in that moment.

She was tense. I began caressing her head and rubbing her back and she began to melt again. I moved slowly down her back with both hands and began massaging her ass with one of them and with the other reached down and stroked her pussy before sliding two fingers into it. She began to moan and her breathing grew incredibly heavy. “Do you remember your words?” I asked her. “Yes.” She managed to breathe out. “Good girl.” I said, as I removed my hand from inside of her and brought it down on top of her beautiful backside. (Our marriage is over now but I still cannot deny that Amy has a great butt.). I started out slowly with mild smacks interspersed with deep rubs. “Holy shit!” I thought to myself, she wasn’t stopping me. I would spank, she would tense, I would rub, she would relax, it kept building. I ramped up the intensity over time, the hits got harder and the tempo increased, the rubbing in between hits ceased. Her legs and her ass began to subtly twitch and shake. This is the moment I learned that I am a sadist, we’ll be talking about that fact more on a later date. Each subtle little twitch made me harder than I had ever been before. “Yellow!” She had taken more than I would have ever guessed she would.

I took her by the arms and threw her onto her back. I grabbed the vibrator and began working her clit with it with one hand as I slapped her tits around with the other. I had never heard the term “impact play” before but it was apparent that it was my thing. Her back began to arch and her chest was heaving up and down. “Don’t you fucking cum.” I growled at her, as I let go of the vibrator and grasped her nipples with both hands giving them a good tug. She gasped and I climbed on top of her and plunged into her. It had been over an hour since I had come home and this was the first time I penetrated her with my dick. She ate me up, I had never felt her so ready to take me in. I fumbled around searching for the vibrator, I set it on its highest speed and wedged it between us. I took her still tied hands and raised them over head, pinning them to the headboard. Then I laid into her in a way I never had before. I fucked her haaaard. Two things surprised me, the first was how into this she was. The second was the control I seemed to have over myself all of a sudden. I had never been known for sexual endurance but for some reason I felt like I had complete power over if and when I came. In my head I was telling myself “keep going, she can take it.”

I loved Amy, we had “made love” to one another for ten years. This wasn’t about love. This was about power, control, and free use. We had done a lot for each other over the years but with the exception of making me a father this was the greatest gift she had ever given me. She gave herself up to me to use and to satisfy my needs, and we were both loving it. Amy could never get out of her own head. I had never seen her give in to the moment when we had sex but she was lost in it now. I kept hammering away and she was moaning like I’d never heard and thrashing around like a rag doll. After a while I let go of her hands and wrapped my hand around her throat. “Good girl, now you can cum.” She did, we both did, more intensely than we ever had before. I know that it was the greatest orgasm of my life. Amy and I had been with other people before we met so I can’t say that was the hardest she ever came, but it was the hardest she did with me.

I got off of her and struggled to untie her, my hands were shaking. I collapsed next to her, trying to catch my breath. I glanced over and noticed she was still wearing the blindfold. I carefully pulled it down and pulled her over onto my chest. We stayed like that for at least the next thirty minutes. I held her and ran my fingers through her hair. I rubbed her back and kissed her head. We didn’t speak, the only sound to be heard was our panting for air. I felt a lot of things all at once. I felt fulfilled in a way that I never had before. I felt more powerful and confident as a man than I ever had. Yet a small piece of me though felt like a depraved monster. I kissed Amy and uttered the last words either of us would speak that night. “Good girl.”

After all of this things change in my story. At first for the good but then as promised, a fiery crash. Like a plane crash involving your favorite band and there are no survivors, that level of crash. For the next little while I’m not going to regale you with steamy play by plays. In my next installment I’m going to explain why my marriage was already on the rocks and why I should have been suspicious of this new leaf that Amy had seemed to turn over. Still though, it’s been over a year since the night I just recounted for you and it still lives more clearly in my mind than almost any other experience I’ve had. Not all of our marriage is quite so clear.

Fucking TikTok…

You and I are going to have jump around a little, I’ve decided. If I lay out the whole preamble leading up to Amy and I adopting our dynamic it will take forever to get to the stuff you’re really here to read about. So that’s what I’ll do, tell this story out of order. Suffice it to say though that our marriage was already on rocky ground when she began sending me the TikTok videos. All about Dominance and submission and kink. For years I had wanted to experiment but had never had the nerve to ask for what I wanted. She, to her credit, could sense this. She would constantly comment after sex that she could feel I was holding something back, “You’re not doing what you want to do and I can tell.” She would say. She had always been uncomfortable talking about sex, the videos were her way of saying “Let’s go for it.”

I didn’t take the bait at first. Regardless of what I felt inside, I knew that the things I wanted were wrong. “A relationship is an equal partnership”, I thought to myself, it’s not right to want the things that you do. A good man does not Dominate a woman. Especially when she is your wife and the mother of your children. I felt a great deal of guilt and shame about my dark wants. She kept sending the videos though, Dom’s discussing technique, subs talking about the fulfillment they got from submission, it was tantalizing. Then one day I bit down on the hook. I was working an evening shift and I got a text, another video. “You want this?” I responded. “I want you to get what you want.” She replied. I felt so many conflicting feelings flood me all at once. I was horny, sure, but I also felt excitement, nervousness, anticipation, and some guilt. I typed the word “spanking” into the gif search feature of my text messenger. A coupon for “One Free Spanking” popped up. I sent it to her along with a wink emoji. Lame, I know. “Why would I need that?” She typed back, “You’re the boss aren’t you?” There were four hours left in my shift, they would prove to be the longest four hours of my life.

I got home at around 11:30 that night. Amy was still up, which was rare. She was sitting on the couch in our dimly lit living room. Her hair was still damp from the shower and she was having a drink (also rare) in nothing but a bathrobe (unheard of). The kids were all asleep and the house was quiet. I set down my work bag and walked to her. I gently took her drink from her and slowly pushed her back onto the couch. I climbed on top of her and for several minutes we kissed with a level of passion and real desire for one another that had been absent for years. She asked if she could make me a drink and I helped her up and lead her into the kitchen.

I stood behind her pressing my body into hers as she mixed my cocktail. My hands found their way under her robe and caressed her naked body as I kissed her neck. She turned to hand me my drink and I spun her back around and carried on with what I was doing. “You don’t move without my permission.” I whispered in her ear. “Now, let’s talk about what is going to happen tonight.” I whispered. “You’re in charge.” She quietly moaned. “Do whatever you want.”

I want to point out now that I had no idea what I was doing or what it was I really even wanted. I knew next to nothing about how BDSM should be practiced, I still, like most people, have lots I could learn. I was chasing a faceless primal desire at this point. I knew about safe words at least and so I instructed her that she should say “yellow” if she was approaching her limit and “red” if she wanted to stop. If it were today I would never accept “whatever you want”, that’s far to grey a statement. I’m explaining my behavior right now, not excusing it. We carried on…

I faced her toward me and opened her robe I began massaging her tits and told her to repeat her safe words back to me. As she did I grabbed hold of her nipples and slowly began pulling them in my direction. “Yellow and Red”, she managed to stutter out. “Good girl.” I told her, as I lowered my head to her chest and bit her nipples. I then began slowly crouching, kissing her body all along the way. I craned my neck around her and bit her ass, “oh!”she said under her breath as she jumped slightly in surprise. I stood and once again walked behind her. I rubbed her ass and placed my lips next to her ear once more. “I’m going to go take a shower. When I get out I want you waiting for me in the bed. I want you naked and put your hair up.” With that I lifted the back of her robe and gave her a good smack on her bare cheeks and she went on her way to the bedroom.

When she was out of sight I placed my hands on the counter and leaned hard on it. I felt like I had to catch my breath. I took a sip of the drink that I had been neglecting. This exchange was very out of character for both of us. The raw sexual energy was palpable in the air, I know that sounds like a cheesy romance novel line but I swear it’s true. You could feel this wild animal like sexual power, it was hovering everywhere. It was thrilling. I poured the rest of the cocktail into the sink and headed toward the shower. I knew she’d be able to see me as I walked the hallway so I did my best to walk slowly and deliberately into the bathroom. Believe me, I wanted to run though.

The whole time I was cleaning myself up my mind was racing. I was like a dog who had caught a car. Now what? I knew I wanted this badly, but I had no idea what to do now that I had it right in front of me. I quickly blocked out in my head how it all should go, what I wanted to do and what I thought I was supposed to say. As I was drying myself off I looked at my facial expression in the mirror. It was, oddly, a perfect physical representation of every feeling I was experiencing. The excitement, nervousness, desire, and yes, even the guilt, were all clearly visible.

I walked down the hallway toward the open bedroom door as slowly and deliberately as before. I mentally gave myself a pep talk as I encountered the doorway. “Don’t you back out now! You wanted this. Now you have it. She is willing, Go take what you want!” And that’s exactly what I went in there and did.

I did not mean for this “origin story” to go on for as long as it already has. I’m gonna stop here before I get any further. You have my word I’ll wrap it all up in my next entry. I’m not going to come back to it three posts from now or something like that. I won’t make you beg for it. Though depending on who exactly you are, that could be fun…

Well that happened fast…

We were so goddamned normal. Maybe that was the problem. Amy and I had been together for ten years, married for eight of them. I worked long hours so she could stay home with the kids, three of them, our youngest just a baby. The loft in the city had long ago been traded in for the little house in the suburbs. It sounds so cliche that you might assume I’m making all of this up. I’m not. From the outside it all appeared to be a twenty first century nod to Norman Rockwell. Beneath the surface though there were problems, tension, and hurt.

I can pick apart the last year of my life and examine the pieces and see some things clearly. Tiny images, clues almost, they are like clips pulled from full length scenes that when compiled should comprise a finished film, but they don’t. When viewed as a whole everything is blurry. Like the scrambled Spice Channel of my youth I keep looking, waiting anxiously for that brief few seconds of picture clarity.

This is all going to heat up and get juicy shortly. I assure you. You need to stick with me for a little while though. If you don’t first have a grasp on our life as it was and how it came to be, you won’t appreciate the introduction of the 24/7 Dom and sub relationship that materialized almost over night. The rules, the contract, the collars, the spankings, the clamps, orgasm control and denial, all of it… we both thought they saved our marriage. Only one of us now thinks they are the reason it ended.

The pace at which I tell the story of my journey into BDSM will be slower than the pace at which the events themselves unfolded. This is not because I enjoy building suspense (I certainly do though), it’s because at the end of the day I’m still trying to figure out for myself just what the hell happened. Lust, romance, control and devotion crashed head on into a freight train loaded to the brim with mistrust, misunderstanding, manipulation, and possibly abuse. It all comes from both sides and in most cases not the one you’d assume. This is the place I am going to come to in order to pick through the wreckage. You are welcome to watch. Everyone loves a train wreck.