That girl with the flaming red hair, ripped jeans and biker boots style. Holding her head up high as she struts on by, is hiding her insecurities behind her confident smile.
Praying to god that no one sees the lie behind her eyes, the feelings of inadequacy and loathing for her bodies form.
Secretly wishing inside that she didn’t care, but everywhere she looks, he’s not there.
He made her feel comfortable, wanted and needed, that feeling was amazing, regardless of how fleeting.
Desperately wanting to feel it again, the thoughts of being good enough and to no longer feel the pain.
But pain is what is inside, she’s lived with it so long it’s made her numb, dragged under a wave of loathing she succumbs.
Back to the fake emotions she emanates as armour she goes, ignoring her fears, loathing and woes.


You left your mark on me, branded into my brain rather than my skin.
These are not feelings of love which are impossible to rid myself of, but lust and the the need to be yours.
To feel your words wash over me, dictating my actions and commanding my movements.
No one else is able to push through the barriers I let you through, they’re higher and thicker now after you.
You left your mark on me and now I don’t know what to do.

That look………….all it takes is that one look. The body language that screams dominant, the broad  commanding stance mixed with that slight head tilt. Looking up and seeing those eyes slightly slit and boring into you that scream “DANGEROUS”.

That’s the one look that turns my bones to jelly, makes me suck in a quick breath. It gets my heart rate pumping, transforms me into a quivering and cowering little girl. As adrenalin spikes through my body, making me scared, uncertain and hot as hell, making me instantly wet.

I’ve had lots of things on my mind recently and I’ve wanted to talk about them but I’ve had no one to listen. I don’t want to seem negative or like I’m on a downer all the time, so I tend to bottle things up, like a lot of people. But I’m hitting my limit and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna sail straight on to completely crazy soon, if I don’t get things off my chest.

For example, why do people drain you? I mean literally drain you, take your time and attention which you have willing bestowed upon them, to turn around and just drop you when they feel like it? It’s exhausting. I’m an all or nothing kind of person, if I feel like someone may be interesting to get to know, then I put a lot of time and effort into talking to them. I open myself up if I start to trust them, show them all the aspects of me and my personality and then they either mess me around or just bugger off. Why?

I’ve been thinking about this alot recently and the only conclusion I can boil it down to, is that it’s me. I’m the one consistent factor in each equation. I have so many different personality traits that I can pretty much talk to anyone, I like all kinds of things, am interested in all sorts, so I usually find at least one or two things that I have in common with anyone I meet. But my basic personality traits remain the same, I like honesty, people to be upfront and curtious as I am with them. I don’t think that’s too much to ask, is it? I know my honesty regarding my home life and commitments had been the reason certain friendships haven’t been properly cultivated and we have left our seperate ways, and I’m fine with that, because both sides were honest from the start. But what I hate is when I’m honest about these things, people tell me it isn’t a problem and then they use it as an excuse to go. Just tell me at the beginning, I’m a big arsed woman, not a girl, I can take it!

What I hate basically, is being messed around. Told what I’m needed to hear and then just dropped because they get bored or they’re arseholes or just plain don’t care about anything but themselves. I know that everyone’s lives throw distractions into the mix, I have that myself, but it doesn’t kill you to let someone know does it?

I’m fed up of putting myself out there just to be trampled on or ignored. Trying to understand why it keeps happening is properly messing with my head now, it’s leaving me feeling worthless, disgusting and disposable.

Hang your hat by the door, walk through the hall and stop at the doorway….
Stand and just breath the sight of me in, on my knees, legs spread slightly. My back to you, blindfold in place, shackles on my wrists, ready and waiting for you.
I hear the sound of your boots as you move across the wooden floor, slow, deliberate steps.
Goosebumps rise up across my flesh with the anticipation of you getting closer, knowing you’re here with me.
My head bowed and blindfold in place, I can see nothing, but I can feel you close behind me, hear your slow even breaths as you stand and watch me. I try to keep my breathing even but it is difficult, knowing you are here behind me, wanting to feel your touch on my skin.
I wait patiently, but it seems like forever before  I feel your warm breath by my ear, speaking gently to me in your deep, commanding voice, “You look beautiful sitting here waiting for me” and then I finally feel you as you place one large palm against my breast bone and slowly glide it up untill it is gently encompassing my neck, whilst the other mirrors the contact at the top of my back. Trailing it’s way up and into the hair at the back of my neck, firmly grasping a handful of my hair.
I take a deep shakey breath in at the contact, I love how your hands feel against my cool, goospimpled skin. You make slow little circles by my jaw with your thumb, eliciting a low breathy moan from deep within me.
My body sags slightly as I give myself over to you, completely trusting you as you guide my shackled wrists behind my back and I hear the sound of metal sliding through the rings.

There are times that what I need doesn’t always seem right or appropriate and people can find it difficult to understand me and my reasoning behind my needs.

Like right now, I’m going through emotionally challenging times, where I’m not getting the time or space I need to work through my grief properly. I’m floating around making sure everyone is ok, doing all the physically challenging things that are needed because others are unable to do it themselves. But I’m struggling, my body is drained, both physically and emotionally and my head will not go silent. Constantly thinking of everything that needs to be done before the funeral, how my family is coping, my usual family commitments at home and looking after my children, let alone getting sorted for Christmas!

I need to stop. I need that special someone I’ve been searching for to help me. To pick me up, whisk me away, even if only for an hour. For them to take charge of my body and mind, so I don’t think of anything other than that moment that we are sharing. Take charge of me completely, tie me up, strap me down and force me to cum over and over, through the crying of my loss, through the pain of losing someone so important to me. For them to push me through to the other side, so I can become weightless, all the burdens gone, so all I feel is what is happening to my body, so for that short while I can pretend that everything is OK.

I need to heal, but I can’t step out of my own head to do it. I can’t stop having to do everything that’s wanted and needed from me. But I can’t help but wonder how it would feel to have someone push me through all the crap I’m dealing with right now, I think it would help me in so many ways. But I can’t have it, and it’s making me feel worse. Why am I only ever good enough to make people feel better and crank up their egos. Why can’t anyone just want me as I am, battered bruised and broken and want to try and help me?

Unexpected loss: non kink related

Posted: December 18, 2014 in Uncategorized

When you have an unexpected loss in the family and you’re the youngest one but have always been the carrier of the women in your family, you can feel very alone and drained quickly. It’s tiring to have to be the strong one that picks everyone else up around you, it can make you feel trodden on and empty. Sometimes us strong people need help too, we need someone to wrap their arms around us and tell us that it’s going to be ok, that they’ll help us through the loss of a dear family member, but that rarely happens.

I’m now finding myself in limbo, unable to process through my own grief because I’ve been helping others organise and get through theirs, I have no one here to help me and I feel lost and alone.

What I need

Posted: December 13, 2014 in need
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

All I ask is the following….

Get to know me, truly know me. Learn my fears, my misgivings, my wants and desires. In turn, show me yours, let me understand you properly. Take the time to get beneath my skin, so I think and dream of the ways I can please and pleasure you, satisfy you.

So then when we play, you can have the confidence to grab me anywhere, any time, forcing me onto my knees. The look of fear in my eyes mixed with arousal and anticipation turning you on till I can see so for myself. Opening your zipper and grabbing my neck, directing my open mouth to take all of you in, pumping yourself into me as I moan around you, sucking hard, looking up into your eyes, holding your stern gaze. My eagerness turning you on even more as you grow inside my mouth, pulling my face away untill you are released with a loud pop.

Walking behind me, you move my panties aside and insert three fingers and feel for yourself just how much I want you and am ready for you, drenching your fingers as you pound them into me. Just on the edge of cumming, you withdraw, grab a fistful of my hair and yank my head back roughly as you slam your cock into me. Hearing me shout and cry out at the brutality but knowing I love it as my muscles start to quake and spasm around you.

Trust me enough to let me in, show me I can trust you, so I can let you have me anyway you want me.

What I want, what I need, is to completely lose myself in sensation. To be taken to a place within myself, a place where all I do is feel. I don’t over think, I don’t worry, I just feel.

To have someone take control of my body, my mind. For them to know and truly understand me. I need them to know my boundaries and where they can push against them and where they can not. For them to consume my senses untill my mind breaks and cracks, so I can truly step outside of my head.

I often think and fantasise about how this would feel, but I can never truly know unless it happens to me. It will take trust, on both sides. Trust from me that they won’t completely break me. Trust from them that they can do it without hurting me.

I thought I had this relationship building before, that I had someone I could finally let in enough, to let them lead me. But it stopped. And now I find myself back at square one, finding it harder than ever before to believe anything that is said to me. If you could break me, send me tumbling back through the progress within myself that I’d managed to make, then who’s to say it won’t happen again? Who’s to say that I can truly trust anyone with my hopes and fears again? I’m still a little bit broken from it. I didn’t think I was, but the more I sit hear and write this, the more obvious it’s becoming that I’m still messed up over you. Why the hell have I let myself get so fucked up over you? My anger and fear is pointless, you don’t know or care how I’m feeling, so why am I still holding onto the anger, disappointment and confusion from it all after so long?

I have an occurring fantasy that I would like to try. I want to be in charge. Just for one time, to try this idea that’s in my mind, will you let me try?

I want you to be mine, just for one hour. Mine to play with and tease and satisfy. The idea alone makes me wet with anticipation, with the thoughts of teasing and pleasing you. I want to feel your body tremble beneath my hands with fear and ecstacy.I want you to be mine.

To stand in your bare feet but fully clothed. I want for you to see me all dressed in black, a corset, stockings and suspenders and my high fuck me shoes. I want to tower over you, to intimidate you, but in a delicious way. For you to wonder what I will do to you.

I fiddle with the cuffs in my hands, stroking them with my fingers as I mentally calculate your reactions. I instruct you to undo your zipper and button on your jeans, but not to undress. I walk behind you slowly, and stand close to your back. You can’t see me. But you can feel my breath on the back of your neck, the feel of my breasts grazing your back with each inhalation.
Unbeknown to you, this action raises goosebumps across my breasts, adrenalin and excitement pumping through my veins, making my nipples rock hard and chafe against the material of my corset. My breathing is slow and shallow. It’s taking a lot for me to go slowly, to stop myself from devouring you. I know how you are feeling, you’re feeling the same thoughts and fears that you distilled in me when our roles were reversed. I know you crave my touch, to feel my hands roaming over your bare skin. To feel my lips kissing your flesh, the wetness from my tongue as I explore every part of you.
I grab your left wrist and pull it behind your back, securing the first smooth leather cuff around it, pulling tight so you have no wiggle room. Then immediately repeat the action with the right. You hear the soft sound of metal as I pull the chain through the cuffs, followed by the sound of the key turning in the lock.
There. You are now mine to do with as I please.
You take a shakey breath in, a mixture of apprehension, lust and fear winding it’s way through your body. Your mind swimming with the possibilities. Will I be rough or gentle. Will I leave you here, or will I play with you. Will I be my usual nice and sweet sub self or will I turn and change into a commanding force, relentless in my quest to please and punish you?

I lean forward, lightly and slowly lick the outside of your right ear and quietly breath ‘mine’………..