tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23333807448417720702024-03-13T13:40:43.098+00:00Sex and SpanxDiary of a curvy submissiveUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger202125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-82030760476440957852022-01-05T16:40:00.006+00:002022-01-05T16:51:50.766+00:00Here's to 2022 - Fingers crossed<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhyE9hWe274GJFmIgssYasNo1i8UasQRamLisY2kSgENZ6Wfpu5nOJ8q0Lrevuf0bQjUt7pqXuA8IyMYfTAvkrIVul9p8A7C7dFy3-Yf1VEqmt0aEWjiWniXvYqJK_Ak1e-jNwRrZJ5Ri5H6uXCsQMIbT0Cc3lCiczK1YShddtITnYzzNFSgAPWfCCy=s1920" style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhyE9hWe274GJFmIgssYasNo1i8UasQRamLisY2kSgENZ6Wfpu5nOJ8q0Lrevuf0bQjUt7pqXuA8IyMYfTAvkrIVul9p8A7C7dFy3-Yf1VEqmt0aEWjiWniXvYqJK_Ak1e-jNwRrZJ5Ri5H6uXCsQMIbT0Cc3lCiczK1YShddtITnYzzNFSgAPWfCCy=w471-h265" width="471" /></a></div><br />2021 was a cluster fuck – which unfortunately didn’t see me getting sexually fucked as much as I wanted. <div><br /></div><div>Twice. I had sex twice. </div><div><br /></div><div>And as a woman who not only enjoys sex but needs it to function, its safe to say it wasn’t even remotely enough. I get frustrated when I don't get that particular need met, which then turns into a depressive state - not ideal when you suffer from depression to begin with. It quickly starts to spiral.<br /><br />Even seeing Daddy was a non-starter. I was only able to be with him 3 times physically and towards the end of the year the video chats stopped, and the phone calls slowed right down too. Honestly there have been times where I've been terrified that my relationship had all but ended and even now, I’m still worried, but I’ve got to take Daddy on his word that we are ok, and wait for him to come out of this shitty spell he’s stuck in. <br /><br />Which is what I’m hoping will happen in 2022. I want to get back to how we were before lockdown and covid. Where we were close, and I felt connected to him. I miss him and I miss us. <div><br /></div><div>Ideally, I want to get my submissive side back too but that’s not gonna happen if we don’t get back to where we were first. As much as I can bang my head against the wall trying to make us better, it’s not just me that needs to put the work in, and since I can't help him with his work/life balance, I just need to be patient. </div><div><br /></div><div>I fucking hate that word btw, <i>“patience”</i> – that was my word for 2021 and it came back to bite me on the ass, so it can really fuck off now!</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhpGKYJdYvEi8i6b5GbgLFiBGjlOq-IAmSuZ98Znh4Q8hOC6JVcEUhN-4f-KgOsMX9eXynZpeh1yvjLkIepB7TeNru103KEWMkAk9YY5tft9ykmOAjXYUZ_CE0e0VvWs8l5RNWJ-FkWytwuOJq-jJACk-yIvz1CHzCl9197kNunadKjZeR1tR0zW0iA=s2342" imageanchor="1" style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1165" data-original-width="2342" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhpGKYJdYvEi8i6b5GbgLFiBGjlOq-IAmSuZ98Znh4Q8hOC6JVcEUhN-4f-KgOsMX9eXynZpeh1yvjLkIepB7TeNru103KEWMkAk9YY5tft9ykmOAjXYUZ_CE0e0VvWs8l5RNWJ-FkWytwuOJq-jJACk-yIvz1CHzCl9197kNunadKjZeR1tR0zW0iA=w474-h235" width="474" /></a></div><div> <br />So back to 2022 – and my word of the year, <i>“progress”</i>. </div><div><br /></div><div>This year I’m going to focus on keeping going. I want to kick start my life again as I’m not happy how it stalled last year. I’ve set myself naughty some goals which hopefully over 2022 I’ll achieve, and they are all things I can do solo while I wait for Daddy to catch up.<br /><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Get back into blogging. It was therapeutic and gave me a way to look at my kinky side out with being in the bedroom with Daddy.</li><li>Finding my sex drive again. I lost it somewhere around October and even masturbating has become problematic. I want that back. I miss cumming. </li><li>Love myself again. Living with chronic pain has given me this wave of self-loathing. Mentally and physically. I hate how I feel about myself and I need to change it. I want to get back to a place where I can love myself. I want to love my curves and feel sexy again – rather than this horrible swamp troll that I currently loath.</li><li>Make some new NON-judgmental kinky friends. I feel very alone these days and I don’t really feel like I have anyone that I can talk to about kink without judgment or general dumb fuckery. It would be nice if I could discuss the pros and cons to fisting or DP without having to deal with the “ew”, “that’s just weird” or any other negative reaction. I’m not a fan of kink shaming.</li><li>And lastly, I wanna explore my kinks more. Granted this one is largely dependent on Daddy as I’m in a monogamous relationship and have zero interest in straying but there are some kinks that I can perhaps explore solo, time will tell, I guess.</li></ul></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>
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<p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-89500639282534810632021-12-17T10:29:00.006+00:002022-01-05T18:14:33.275+00:00I miss the old days<div style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9qxMPF8N7C73baFdBbvxys3xEAgVFKNSSft4CBr3ZvA64GQ0tyj_4TsasllLilYJNdxKe_6ap4ALEeukxQjv-Ni1NxQes0lyTyz_HPjksz6XLXznQ2hUR6X1gmV5b8eoX1saAp5e7tSjlH_n3xOZFP9XfrIuim--6ycuwi6hWgIp4jZso_ffIpWHs=w403-h291" /></div><br /><br />I think it’s safe to say I’m no longer in a BDSM relationship. That’s not to say that I’ve broken up with Daddy, cause were still together, but the D/s side has all but disappeared.<br /><br />I haven’t been in subspace since 2020 and I can’t remember the last time I’ve been spanked. That release that I crave has been ignored for so long that I’ve given up on experiencing it again. The frustration of this loss has pretty much destroyed my sex drive. <br /><br />I’ve gone from the nympho who loved sex to not even feeling up to masterbating as it always end with me crying. It’s like starving and having to make do with breadcrumbs. After a while you just get used to the hunger pains. I don’t feel submissive at all anymore. Where before I would bend over backwards to please my Dom, now I don’t feel like I have one these days.<br /><br />And it makes me sad. On a couple of occasions I’ve thought about “poking the bear” as it were. To get that reaction that makes my stomach all giddy. But it hardly seems worth it. You see, Daddy and I have only been able to see each other 3 times in the whole of 2021. And with 2 weeks left of the year, I don’t think that number will improve.<br /><br />It’s been hard. He’s been busy with work and been in so much pain that he’s been pulling away from me. I’ve tried to keep the connection going but his mental health seems to be deteriorating so quick that I don’t wanna put any pressure on him. I know what it’s like when you feel like your world is caving in around you and the last thing I wanna do is become a burden. Its sad though as a lot of the things that made us “us” have gone. We don’t joke anymore. We never video call and even in this past week he’s not really been reading text messages so I feel like there is no point in even trying to talk that way. He’s under so much stress and me begging for attention is only gonna make him feel worse. <br /><br />So I’ll just try and be patient. Sat here by the side-lines, mourning what we used to be and paying to anyone who will listen that 2022 will bring him back to me. Cause I miss him so fucking much.<br /><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-55653616165166610172021-08-23T20:32:00.003+01:002021-12-17T10:31:08.329+00:00Lost submission <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kYWPFyfjiHw/XjYoO46eBgI/AAAAAAAAAMI/Fr846krG79Ys0n0UYwZcr8OCG4TX0YjKwCPcBGAYYCw/s960/in-bed-4511439_960_720.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kYWPFyfjiHw/XjYoO46eBgI/AAAAAAAAAMI/Fr846krG79Ys0n0UYwZcr8OCG4TX0YjKwCPcBGAYYCw/s320/in-bed-4511439_960_720.webp" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>I fear I have lost my submission.<p></p><p>It’s been slowly disappearing for a while, what with lockdown keeping Daddy and I apart and then both of us being in pain and his work schedule, there are so many obstacles in front of us, and as a result my submission has gone.</p><p>It wasn’t a conscious choice on my part. But having seen Daddy twice in 2021, it’s not easy to feel submissive. That’s 0.8% of my year has been with him. How can you maintain a BDSM relationship like that? It’s not that I don’t want him to be my Dom either. It’s that nothing we do or say involves D/s and hasn’t for a while. </p><p>I don’t feel I can even address it anymore as I’m struggling to get him to talk to me in any other form than text or him calling while driving to work. It’s made me feel so distant and if I’m honest like I’m lost. He is who I want. I don’t want to be with anyone but him yet I feel like I don’t have him.</p><p>I look at my toy box and I’m full of resentment. I’m angry. Angry that I don’t feel connect to my partner anymore, angry that things in my life are changing in ways I don’t like but I’m incapable of stopping them. Angry that the one thing I want, to be with him, is becoming harder as the weeks go by.</p><p>That safety I felt is gone. Its been so long since I’ve been dominated that I feel alone. I haven’t had that release, been in that subspace that makes me feel balanced in a long time. </p><p>Even if I had to give up my submission, I think I would if it meant I had him more. But here I am left with neither really.</p><p>It makes me sad.</p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-30846273635036238382021-08-07T01:00:00.001+01:002022-01-05T18:14:50.634+00:00I want us<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-va_edaUoqwQ/YQ3MQK7nrXI/AAAAAAAACBM/AHbpIHbX66Im6F2ozrkcSV8Ot6vxmy03wCLcBGAsYHQ/s787/IMG_20200125_161449.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-va_edaUoqwQ/YQ3MQK7nrXI/AAAAAAAACBM/AHbpIHbX66Im6F2ozrkcSV8Ot6vxmy03wCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_20200125_161449.jpg" /></a></div><br />I came tonight, for the first time in a while and afterwards I just lay in bed and cried.<div><br />I’m lying here still. In tears.</div><div><br />I’m sad because it’s been so long since my Daddy has been able to touch me. Since I’ve had that release that I really need and I’m frustrated. I need to be broken. To be fucked to the point that I cry and to cum to the point I pass out. I need that mental release. To be taken to that state of pure ecstasy where I’m not even sure I’m still in my own body I’m in that much pleasure. I need to be touched. I need that contact with him. That physical connection where his skin is against mine. His scent on me. The taste of his lips. The warmth of his arms.</div><div> <br />I’m so unbelievably sad that I can’t see him as much as I feel I need. Fuck I’d settle for the once a week again as anything is better than being twice so far and we are in August. I need him. I want him more than I have ever wanted any other partner before him and I’m terrified that this want is going to push him to leave me and I have to try and find a partner after him.</div><div> <br />I don’t want anyone but him and yet I feel like I don’t have him anymore. I try to convince myself that it’s just distance making me worry and we have agreed that he will tell me if he thinks there is a problem, but what if I think it’s a problem? I can’t tell him how scared I am without him feeling inadequate, which is the last thing I want, but I don’t know how to connect though a text message.</div><div><br />I want the old us back. Where I would wake up with him in my bed and he couldn’t keep his hands off me. Where we would lie together wrapped in each other while the world went by. Where I felt safe and like I belonged. When we weren’t in pain, our bodies betraying us and I felt wanted and loved, no matter how mentally broken I felt.</div><div><br />I just want him. I want us.<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-61050422724213034982021-07-10T01:51:00.001+01:002021-07-10T01:52:18.254+01:00Anniversary Idea<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8nSclLY501k/Xm0WEJc3_pI/AAAAAAAAAms/3VM602oiIzgNwtJvVSqzdT5QfW7K_08yACPcBGAYYCw/s612/gettyimages-479524262-612x612.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="612" height="344" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8nSclLY501k/Xm0WEJc3_pI/AAAAAAAAAms/3VM602oiIzgNwtJvVSqzdT5QfW7K_08yACPcBGAYYCw/w517-h344/gettyimages-479524262-612x612.jpg" width="517" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />I had a really good day today. Surprisingly it was relatively pain free so I’m not too annoyed that tonight pain has crept up on me and I’m not able to sleep. <br /><br />Instead, I’m thinking about daddy and how much I miss him. It's hard to believe that we've almost been together two years. <span><a name='more'></a></span>To be fair, this last year hasn’t really felt like it counted what with the pandemic keeping us apart in all but still come November he will have been mine and I will have been his for two years. <br /><br />Traditionally, the 2nd anniversary gift should be something cotton and although that’s predominantly used for wedding anniversaries there’s no hard and fast rule to say it can't just be a regular/dating anniversary too. When I think cotton, I think clothing, more specifically underwear, so I’m toying with the idea of creating a boudoir shoot especially for him. <br /><br />How I’m going to go about doing it however as a whole other issue. How can someone make themselves look sexy on camera via a timer and more importantly will I be able to feel sexy since I’m plus size? Now don’t for a second think I’m saying plus size women can’t be sexy. I follow many gorgeous plus size women on Twitter and Instagram who I openly have huge crushes on. But me, myself, in my own skin? There is no way I can compete with that level of beauty. <br /><br />Daddy on the other hand will completely disagree. He thinks I’m sexy all the time and he says he prefers his women with a bit more meat on the bone so really I know the issue is in my head. Its MY hang up that I need to get over. <br /><br />I have always been good with the camera and taking pictures of other people so it will be a bit of a weird stance being in front of the camera. I could hopefully Photoshop away a few imperfections without him noticing should I need to but the biggest issue I’m thinking (other than the self loathing) is the setting. <br /><br />I’ve been looking tonight at nice hotels that I could book simply for the purpose of taking photos but then that would involve lugging a lot of stuff about to the likes of Glasgow and that just feels a little bit excessive. I could always go classy black and white shots against a white backdrop. That could be do-able within my house. Plus, I could fuck about in Photoshop and add pops of colour in the photos to break it up a bit. <br /><br />I have so many ideas floating about my head tonight but I’m pretty sure its something he will like and I would do anything to make him happy. And it’s a unique gift too, I’ve never done a boudoir shoot before. <br /><br />Now to look for some flattering poses. If any plus size peeps want to fling some ideas my way I’m all ears. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-48675567630051408612021-07-06T09:49:00.004+01:002021-07-06T09:50:42.388+01:00Honorifics and Social media<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FjkfAkKtdzk/YOQXh9ATSXI/AAAAAAAAB_0/uhKtTIbQh-McT7fkjmbHRAl9Y-xSJezbgCLcBGAsYHQ/s612/gettyimages-117368657-612x612.jpg" style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="612" height="291" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FjkfAkKtdzk/YOQXh9ATSXI/AAAAAAAAB_0/uhKtTIbQh-McT7fkjmbHRAl9Y-xSJezbgCLcBGAsYHQ/w437-h291/gettyimages-117368657-612x612.jpg" width="437" /></a></div><br />I’ve been debating posting this as its possibly gonna piss people off which I’m not setting out to do, but at the same time it’s my blog which I started as a way to express thoughts and what not, so fuck it. <br /><br />Today I wanna talk about honorifics and social media.<span><a name='more'></a></span><br />For those who might not know honorifics are the names given in a dynamic. I’m my case it’s <i>“Daddy”</i> and <i>“baby girl”</i>. Those are names that are specific to him and I. Now obviously there are other couples in the BDSM community who use those terms too, but not to us. I would never call another Dom <i>“Daddy"</i> and my Daddy would never call another sub <i>“baby girl"</i>. They are names that only we can call each other. <br /><br />Vanilla relationships have a semi similar thing too. I spent almost 6 years answering to<i> “Boo"</i> as that was the pet name my ex gave me. It was between us and no one else called me Boo. But in the kink world it's a bit more important. It's about respect. And as such it’s highly fucking disrespectful trying to force an honorific on someone or demand one be given to you without permission. <br /><br />And that leads me to social media. There seems to be this influx of fake dom(me)s/subs and it’s like a fly in the room buzzing about, not getting the hint when you swat it away. I’ve had doms (intentional small d as that’s the energy they give) slide into my DMs after gathering from my twitter name “<b><a href="https://twitter.com/scottishlasssub" target="_blank">ScottishLassSub</a></b>” that I am in fact a submissive. What they fail to see however is my pinned post which makes it glaringly obvious that Daddy has dibs.<div> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KZ0q6sFTBpQ/YOQYCA2pD3I/AAAAAAAACAA/wBvwsRmBKQYcbWOZdEMLWCf9XfGscLB1QCLcBGAsYHQ/s478/pinned.png" style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="264" data-original-width="478" height="259" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KZ0q6sFTBpQ/YOQYCA2pD3I/AAAAAAAACAA/wBvwsRmBKQYcbWOZdEMLWCf9XfGscLB1QCLcBGAsYHQ/w468-h259/pinned.png" width="468" /></a></div><br />Ordinarily I wouldn’t bother and just delete and block but when they open with things like <i>‘You will call me Daddy/Master/any variety there of’</i> – my inner brat gets bitchy. And when they start giving me orders, oh sweet Jesus, I get hella fuckety! <br /><br />I have only one Dom. One Daddy who I will gladly submit to and he alone can boss me about. Even then if I’m in a bratty mood I make him work for it and that’s someone I love, care for and respect. If some fucktard tries to tell me what to do it’s not gonna end well, and if they try to piss on me to stake a claim like a dog, I’m gonna chop their balls off like one. You might be a dom but you are not my Dom, so fuck off. <br /><br />I’ve found my way onto the NSFW tik tok which is playfully called <i>“kink tok”</i> and I love it. I’m able to connect with so many people in the community and share ideas and thoughts. It’s wonderful for an introvert like me. But recently though there have been some issues with my favourite community. Most of which surrounding consent. <br /><br />There is a video circulating of what is in my opinion assault – the sub prior to the scene said they didn’t want an item used then mid scene the dom (again small d got small dick energy) brought the item in and used coercion to get consent. It’s horrible to watch and the girl involved has spoken about the video and it’s heart-breaking as a sub seeing her trust destroyed like that. <br /><br />There are also a lot of male Doms posting and in the comments women (and some men) calling them <i>“Daddy", “Master", “Sir"</i> without permission. It’s disrespectful and even after these Doms have said DONT people are still ignoring them and think it’s all a bit of fun. I’ve seen the subs respond and that too is upsetting. One specific woman is getting so much shit because she has asked these other women not to call her Dom by their honorifics to the point she’s been reduced to tears. It’s sad and I get where she if coming from. If someone called my Dom<i> “Daddy”</i> even after being warned not to I’d tear her hair out. She’s fair game. She was warned. It’s disrespectful and it’s not OK. <br /><br />But you know what else is not OK, and here is where I’m gonna annoy people ... Doms making videos telling viewers to drink their water, put the phone down and go to bed or be a good girl for them. Doms calling viewers a brat or warning them to wait till they get their hands on them ... and then later make a video telling the same viewers not to use an honorific. <br /><br />No. <br /><br />You are contradicting the whole fucking argument when you do shit like that and your giving the vanilla peeps the wrong idea. You can’t play dom in your videos for clout then get angry that people are giving you an<i> undeserved</i> name in the next then go back to the thirst traps and bossing about in the 3rd. It doesn’t work. Pick a fucking lane. <br /><br />I don’t respond to the orders given just like I don’t call these creators by anything other than their handle if I ever interact with them. Why? Because they aren’t my Dom! I know the rules but these vanilla peeps or baby subs don’t seem to know and when you keep chopping and changing you can’t reasonably expect them to wanna learn. And that’s assuming they have the mental capacity to learn. There are undoubtedly people on the app that are neurodiverse and they might not be able to comprehend the rules around honorifics. Not saying that’s why these people aren’t listening in the comments section, they could just be arseholes, but who knows. <br /><br />I’m aware people should be allowed to post what they want within reason. And if you don’t like something you can just keep scrolling – I do this a lot thanks to euro 2021 but I digress. What you can’t do is post something then bitch about the reaction, and then go straight back to posting the same god damn thing. It’s illogical and you look like a cuntwaffle so gie it a bye! <br /><br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-35527927061977102002021-06-28T00:24:00.005+01:002021-06-28T00:24:50.690+01:00Mind blowing<p></p><!--EndFragment--><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h4VmmbO1Xto/Xit1H0kk6pI/AAAAAAAAALE/IQpmJ5baiGcqMur1Dz5fsPJa-z9ORRY0ACPcBGAYYCw/s500/IMG_20200107_200016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="281" data-original-width="500" height="368" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h4VmmbO1Xto/Xit1H0kk6pI/AAAAAAAAALE/IQpmJ5baiGcqMur1Dz5fsPJa-z9ORRY0ACPcBGAYYCw/w653-h368/IMG_20200107_200016.jpg" width="653" /></a></div><div><br />I’m horny. <br /><br />A statement of fact there for you all. It’s been a few weeks, and I’ve literally had sex once in 2021 so far and I need that scratch itched. <br /><br />It’s hard just now though, no pun intended, as I’m too far geographically from Daddy and let’s be honest with both of us in the grips of our respective pains, we can’t exactly throw down. <br /><br />I do like to think about us though, and we have a lot of us that makes me smile. Daddy and I have some mind-blowing sex and that’s what I wanna talk about. Mind blowing sex. <br /><br />When I told Daddy he was the best sex I ever had he didn’t believe me. At the time I knew better than to argue (since lockdown my bratty side is in full force and I’ll argue anything just to get any reaction) so I just let it go. But I was 100% truthful. Daddy is the best sex I have ever had and at times it has been mind-blowing. <br /><br />So let me tell you why. <br /><br />Sex is fun and if you have a partner who knows what they are doing it can be great. If you have a partner that indulges you on your needs, it’s awesome but if you have a partner that you connect with on a much deeper, vulnerable level, that’s where you get your mind blown. <br /><br />A few times now daddy and I have had that. <br /><br />Most of the time we dance around the great/awesome but on occasion we have reached top tier sex and I could really go another session like that again. Where we are both so into it that everything else falls away. That feeling of completeness and utter happiness. The intensity and pleasure you’re both experiencing, connecting you both physically, mentally and emotionally. It’s insane, raw and awesome. I’m completely myself without fear and importantly he is vulnerable with me. <br /><br />I had never had that before him. I had never felt that closeness with anyone and hopefully I’ll never have to wonder if I’ll find it with anyone again. I enjoy being myself with Daddy and even though I’m in a relationship, I feel free. I don’t have to put on airs and graces with him. I can just be my silly weird self. It’s nice and I like having him as my forever one. <br /><br />Now I just need to get my hands on him again so we can get our freak on.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-11179014968659565962021-06-24T00:04:00.001+01:002021-06-28T00:07:44.744+01:00Sex and chronic pain<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1vX0WIVSAs0/XjxKoPJOlDI/AAAAAAAAAPE/gXELzKIP2lwBz7q4WDR_wC3jYe_TrJzdQCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/adult-2807096_1920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1048" data-original-width="1600" height="341" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1vX0WIVSAs0/XjxKoPJOlDI/AAAAAAAAAPE/gXELzKIP2lwBz7q4WDR_wC3jYe_TrJzdQCPcBGAYYCw/w523-h341/adult-2807096_1920.jpg" width="523" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>I’ve been feeling kinda down the last week. More so than normal. I’ve been dealing with a bad pain flare that just won’t fuck off and I found out last Friday that my biopsy came normal. <br /><br />Now I know that I should be glad. I mean it could have come back something really horrible but at the same time having a normal result means that I’m back to square one with trying to figure out what’s going wrong inside me. And that’s the part that I’m struggling with. It’s been a year now. A year of random intense pain mixed with bouts of failing mental health and I’m kinda done. I wanted to know what was going on so I can get it fixed but instead I’m just stuck here in pain still. <br /><br />I don’t care what anyone says, pain changes people. It changes how you feel about life and it changes how you think. Not knowing if you’re going to wake up in the morning and be able to move freely is depressing. Having to worry about making plans in case on the day you’re about as much use as a chocolate teapot. And then there is sex. I’m not as able to get my freak on like I’m used to and it’s frustrating. <br /><br />I’m not sure wither Daddy also dealing with chronic pain makes it easier or worse either. Part of me thinks that at least if Daddy is in pain too then he won’t be mad at me if I can’t have sex, but then that falls apart because he would NEVER be mad at me anyway. If I told him, I didn’t wanna have sex he wouldn’t ever make me feel bad about it. So that leaves me with cons. <br /><br />I’m scared to hurt Daddy now when we have sex. Where my pain is abdominal, his is skeletal. His (rather incompetent) Dr’s can’t decide if it’s his spine, if it’s arthritis in his hip, if it’s his discs or if it’s his sciatic nerve. All of which I can imagine will be made worse if he has a plus size nympho riding him like a pony. And although him on top is my favourite position, I’m kinda scared to ask him to bang me like the bottom of a ketchup bottle cause I know he wants to but I don’t know that physically he can handle it. I don’t ever want him to feel bad about our sex life. It’s such a fun, important part of a relationship, I never ever want him to associate it with negativity. I’ve lived that life and it kills couples. <br /><br />I’m trying to come to terms with my new normal. It’s not easy but I’m gonna have to get on board. What I’m not ready to accept though is not having a sex life. I will cry repeatedly and possibly break stuff if I can’t get that itch at least a little scratched.
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<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-70958664978656182082021-06-18T23:56:00.002+01:002021-06-19T03:20:44.967+01:00Lovingly Mindful <div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PCLEQlKP9p8/YM1TlWEjmvI/AAAAAAAAB-s/BZoLnGdcpZIXSxLFNij7cdEsd7Go5PTGgCLcBGAsYHQ/s612/control.jpg" style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="612" height="292" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PCLEQlKP9p8/YM1TlWEjmvI/AAAAAAAAB-s/BZoLnGdcpZIXSxLFNij7cdEsd7Go5PTGgCLcBGAsYHQ/w438-h292/control.jpg" width="438" /></a></div><br />It’s funny that today I’ve had conversations with a friend and on twitter about managing expectations and yet I think I need to re-manage mine. <br /><br />I had a conversation today with a friend who is <i>“hating”</i> her partner just now. It reminded me of a conversation we once had where she was having a go that I liked horror movies but couldn’t stand rom coms.<span><a name='more'></a></span> <br /><br />I’ve never been a fan of the whole<i> “chick flick"</i> genre in the same way I don’t like war movies. They make me feel sad. War movies cause the empathetic side of me just drowns in the sorrow and pain the real-life people went through. I know those are actors, but they are portraying events that happened and it makes me so sad I just break. Chick flicks on the other hand make me sad for a whole different reason. They make me sad cause life isn’t like that, but they make it out to be. There isn’t always the smiling happy ending. Sometimes the good guy doesn’t get the girl. Quite often the nerdy chick doesn’t get picked to go to the prom with the jock who realises he was wrong to bully her for years and they get together and have lots of blonde babies and a house with a white picket fence and a golden lab running around. Unfortunately, more often than not, high school is like 13 reasons why, at least mine was closer to that than any rom com I’ve seen. Its all fantasy and that’s fine, but people buy into that shit, and it makes me sad. <br /><br />My friend once told me that the reason I don’t like those films is because I’ve never experienced real romance or felt real love like that, and at the time I agreed, I hadn’t. To me love isn’t the filling your house with flowers and hiring a band to interrupt you at work (rude btw!) It’s the real nitty gritty holding you when you’re falling apart. Being the one you think about last thing at night and the first one you text first thing when you wake up. It’s the love notes you send cause the feelings you have for them are so strong you can’t hold them in anymore. Its the talking on the phone for ages even though you hate phone calls and would rather text. It's the checking in when you get home so they know your OK and picking them up something random at the store because you know they will like it. That’s the real shit and its better than any made up bullshit starting Reese Witherspoon (nothing against her, she’s probably really nice). <br /><br />My friend sees life different to me though and she puts value in different things. She once told me that I would find the guy who did all that stuff for me and that’s when I know with the guy I’m gonna marry. At the time I thought (and told her) she was crazy, and I would never in my wildest dreams get married. Well jokes on me, cause I’ve only gone bloody found someone I dream of marrying. Doh! <br /><br />I’ve found someone that I feel like I might be able to let in. To let my guard down with and I could easily spend the rest of my life beside. It’s a strange feeling for me, and one I would never share with my friend as I’d never hear the end of it, but I think I have found the guy who fits my idea of what love it. <br /><br />I was lying on my bed after the weird conversation with my friend and I was thinking about Daddy. I was thinking about us and our life together so far. I felt all girly for a moment and decided to put into words how I felt about some of our memories. It was a big fuck off message full of soppy-nisk … and I didn’t get any kinda reply to it. He made reference to the message (video clip) I sent after it but no <i>“awe"</i> or <i>“thanks"</i> or <i>“I love you too"</i>. At first it made me a little sad but then I realised that’s OK, cause that’s him. <br /><br />Just because that’s my idea of love doesn’t mean it’s everyone’s and I need to learn to manage my expectations, at least in terms of my relationships. <br /><br />He doesn’t do big grand gestures and he doesn’t always react to small things I do like that. But that’s how he is. I know he read it and I know in my heart he feels the same way. For a while it scared me as it felt like I was putting myself out there but over time I’m getting used to how he shows love. <br /><br />It takes a lot for me to show vulnerability with people, but I do try with him. I let that mushy girly side come out a little more than I’d like because I believe he loves all of me in a way no-one has before, and I know I love all of him in a way I’ve never loved anyone before. That is important and it’s worth letting my walls down to let him in. And hopefully hell let me in too. <br /><br />Till then I need to remember that there are 2 of us in this relationship and I need to be mindful that how he might show his feelings isn’t always the same way I show mine. <br /><br />And that horror movies are way better than chick flicks.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-62373522211380251552021-06-14T01:58:00.004+01:002021-06-16T02:23:14.652+01:00When life hands you moviprep, run!<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HrDYYo8dUHg/YMlNr4qAAYI/AAAAAAAAB-Q/GtpurFreTJ8VaF-UtXz8epirltqhnWFCwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1920/stethoscope-1584223_1920.jpg" style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1920" height="368" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HrDYYo8dUHg/YMlNr4qAAYI/AAAAAAAAB-Q/GtpurFreTJ8VaF-UtXz8epirltqhnWFCwCLcBGAsYHQ/w490-h368/stethoscope-1584223_1920.jpg" width="490" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><b>CW - Medical procedures </b></i></div><br />I’ve done some really kinky stuff in my lifetime but after having a biopsy of my intestines, I feel very vanilla compared to you enema enthusiasts.<span><a name='more'></a></span><div><br /><div>For almost a year now I’ve been dealing with abdominal pain that the Drs couldn’t decide was could be the cause. Around November I started to randomly bleed from my ass (with no discernible reason), so the Drs decided it was to do with my bowels. <br /><br />Lockdown hit again and I was left on a wait-list just trying to power though the pain and literally crap. The bleeding was sporadic and followed no pattern. Wasn’t piles and as I was apart from Daddy and feeling really depressed, my sex drive pretty much plummeted so there was no solo butt play happening. My body was just randomly short circuiting, and no one could find out why. <br /><br />That was until last week when my turn on the table came up and I was getting my biopsy via a colonoscopy.<br /><br /> Now, Obviously, the nature of the area means a there has to be some <i>“preparation”</i> but nothing could have prepared me for the nastiness that was the moviprep solution. If you haven’t experienced this stuff yet, then you’re so lucky. It tastes like salty soap with a lemony undertone, and it makes you shit like someone turned a tap on inside you. Pretty graphic I know but honestly, I've never experienced torture like it. <br /><br />Halfway though it dawned on me that there are people out there who’s kink/fetish it is to do that, and I didn’t know if I should be impressed or terrified. I takes someone with strong willpower to find that erotic and while I’ll never kink shame anyone, it was one I really struggled to understand. <br /><br />I managed 1.5 litres of the stuff before my body started to reject it and I just kept throwing up. By about half 3 I passed out from a mix of nausea and exhaustion and when my alarm went off at 7am, I just cried. <br /><br />I got ready and off to the hospital I went. Oh joy. <br /><br />I look at things through a strange lens at the best of times and as my brain was giving me all kinds of scary thoughts about what they might find, I was trying to counter it with random thoughts, of which kink takes up 70%. I sat in the waiting room away from the other patients (social distancing and all that) watching the medical staff go by and I wondered <i>what it is about the medical field that people like to re-enact in porn</i>? I mean we’ve all done it. I remember playing doctor as a curious preteen which lead to my first sexual/lesbian experience, but I didn’t know better then. Now I do and for me, hospitals are the least sexy places EVER. I mean seriously, I would have better luck getting off in a graveyard than I would a hospital, but I guess that’s why we’re all different – and if anything, I’m the weirdo in that comparison. <br /><br />I got called though for the pre op check over and the nurse was like <i>“seriously?”</i> when I told her I was opting to do this without sedation. But I was adamant I was leaving the hospital that day! <br /><br />Daddy wasn’t too keen on that idea either, but I had my reasons – I fucking hate hospitals. Nothing against them in general but for me they mean pain and death, so when they told me I would need to stay overnight as I didn’t have an adult to take care of me at home due to the sedation, I was like fuck no! The nurse I spoke to on the phone advised I could opt out of sedation and take gas and air, but it will be <i>“unpleasant”</i>. I weighed it up and the panic attack that was bound to happen staying over would be worse than any pain. Plus, I laboured with only gas and air and pushed a human out of me with nothing so I decided I would woman up and just get it done. <br /><br />A decision I instantly regretted once the doctor was deep in my ass. <br /><br />I like anal. I really do. I get why some people are like <i>eek</i> but I love how it feels and the orgasm it gives you is completely different from a pussy orgasm (at least for me). There is something to naughty and primal about it too. Having Daddy fuck me silly then pull out of my pussy and fuck my ass next, <i>oft</i>! Its amazing! <br /><br />What I experienced at the hospital wasn’t amazing. It’s what I imagine being anally probed by a pissed off alien to feel like. He’s been probing butts all day; it’s a Friday and he just wants to end his shift so he can go back to his planet and watch space sports. His heart isn’t really in it and as a result he’s not caring if my asshole gets blown out like an overinflated balloon. Point being it wasn’t fun. I’ve spoken to people who actually enjoyed their colonoscopy which makes me think either the sedation is a crucial part of that, or I know some serious masochists. Whichever side of the coin they land on, nothing about mine was fun or by any definition enjoyable. But I did it, and at least I have a <i>“lovely colon”</i>. <br /><br />A cursory glance at my insides didn’t show anything that would be a cause for concern – which was a relief as I was starting to make plans in my head if it were something sinister, but we’ll just need to wait and see what the biopsy results show. <br /><br />Till then I must reclaim my ass again. <br /><br />I’m gonna try and return it to the fun zone that it previously was and once this pain stops and I've gave myself time to heal, I’m gonna get my best DP toys out and have a grand old time, with not a surgical glove in sight.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-48582540059803741252021-06-01T17:32:00.001+01:002021-06-16T00:38:57.970+01:00Finally happy in 2021<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZUBhwmWQpXo/YMk5swS4LiI/AAAAAAAAB-I/vvoFdW7mwI0aCTg6W9Kb1dlZhziaDIoDACLcBGAsYHQ/s1080/IMG_20200111_132936.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="757" data-original-width="1080" height="310" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZUBhwmWQpXo/YMk5swS4LiI/AAAAAAAAB-I/vvoFdW7mwI0aCTg6W9Kb1dlZhziaDIoDACLcBGAsYHQ/w443-h310/IMG_20200111_132936.jpg" width="443" /></a></div><br />I’m feeling so great today and I feel like I’ve made such a huge positive step in life, both in my relationship and for my mental health. <br /><br />Let me tell you how – I saw my Daddy! <br /><br />Its so simple sounding but after 152 days apart it was really starting to bother me. My overthinking started to make me think we were in real trouble as a couple and I missed him so much that I was really, desperately unhappy. He said he was feeling the same but as he’s always been one to downplay his feelings, so I started to doubt he really did miss me. Completely unfair to him and 100% my bad. I guess that’s part of the joys of my crappy mental health though, I can overthink myself into an abyss. <br /><br />I had really started to get down and it got to a point that I needed to make a real and proper change before I got to the point of no return. So, I made choices. And one of them was I was gonna work towards getting my agoraphobia under control so I could go see him. <br /><br />And I did it. It took me a little over a month, but I bloody did it and I made it without having a panic attack in public. Hells yeah! <br /><br />Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t easy. I really had to focus my brain and work with my GP and therapist, but it was worth it in the end as I got to be in his arms again. <br /><br />And now I feel back on an even keel. <br /><br />Daddy is my anchor. My light in the darkness that is my messed-up mind and without him I spiralled so hard. Imagine it like being on a seesaw, I was either totally up or totally down but never level. Yet after being with him, simply existing, I felt safe. I felt comfortable in my own skin for the first time in 2021 and I felt like I was going to be ok. Its both amazing and terrifying in equal measure. <br /><br />I think it has a lot to do with the BDSM dynamic in our relationship. There is a connection to him that I've never experienced before. I literally trust Daddy with my life. During our play he could do some real damage, but I trust him, and I know that he won’t intentionally hurt me and that is so freeing. I can just release with him, but without him I struggle. <br /><br />I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing but it works for me so long as he keeps his promise and never lets me go.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-86154007073989125192021-04-15T21:11:00.004+01:002021-04-15T22:49:14.874+01:0069 sucks<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X7TxHsj2r8s/YHidFQaG0NI/AAAAAAAAB8s/rynUWRcnD6QH4sWGkoGt8tZyuVPMRYZrgCLcBGAsYHQ/s612/gettyimages-479459896-612x612.jpg" style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="438" data-original-width="612" height="353" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X7TxHsj2r8s/YHidFQaG0NI/AAAAAAAAB8s/rynUWRcnD6QH4sWGkoGt8tZyuVPMRYZrgCLcBGAsYHQ/w494-h353/gettyimages-479459896-612x612.jpg" width="494" /></a></div><br />It’s been a while kinky peeps. How you been? <br /><br />I’ve not been doing so great tbh. Between the lockdown and the chronic pain life has been riding me and it didn’t even buy me dinner first. Dickhead! <br /><br />I’ve decided though to use my covid forced celibacy to try and stream line my life a little ... including my blogging. Where before I would share both sex and mental health posts on here, I’ve decided to split the two. For my random musings on chronic and mental health, head over to my blog "<b><a href="http://www.mentallychill.co.uk/" target="_blank">Mentally (Ch)ill</a></b>". All my naughty posts will stay here. Yay!<br /><br />So, what can I talk about if its been 114 days since I got any (not that I’m counting)? Oh, so much. I’m horny pretty much all the time and lots of things will jump into my head. <br /><br />For example, how shit is the 69 position? <br /><br />I’m serious ... it's terrible! And let me tell you why. I love to suck my Daddy’s cock. I do. I get enjoyment from it. I’ve never been one of those women who reserve that shit for holidays or birthdays, fuck no. I’ve been lying in bed with Daddy watching TV and just decided to take out his cock and get sucking. It’s fun and I can make him moan which just adds to my excitement. <br /><br />I also like to be eaten. If done right, it’s mind blowing, and my head (and eyes) will be rolling about and I’ll be twitching like I’ve been electrocuted. It’s awesome. <br /><br />But who in their right mind thought adding the two would be a good idea? Me sat on his face while I take his dick in my mouth – it sounds sexy yeah but the logistics fail. My huge titties are crushing his abdomen and the more he feasts the less I can concentrate, I end up having to just stroke rather than choke cause as I’m cumming I can’t guarantee teeth placement – nah, it’s not fun. <br /><br />And switch about the other way ... that doesn’t work for me either. I like a skull fuck as much as the next kinkster but there is an extra element of danger with him on top during 69 that does nothing for me. Regular skull fucking I still have some control. If I’m gonna be sick or pass out from lack of oxygen I can pull back a little. Even when we are playing rough and he’s in control, he is always watching to see any indicators that he needs to pull back. We kink responsibly here. But having his thick cock down my throat while his face is buried in muff mountain? Yeah, that’s a conversation with the GP I don’t think he’d like. <i>“Cause of death – too much cock”</i>. I mean it’s a good way to go I guess but I can promise you, I’m not wanting that to be my last blow job. <br /><br />Nah, I prefer the regular take turns way ... plus by the time player 2 has had their turn, player 1 is usually ready to go again. Winning!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-33768157957444207812021-03-06T21:46:00.001+00:002021-06-01T07:53:25.060+01:00I'm so lonely<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pbh3U6-toYE/YEP2Cx8OYmI/AAAAAAAAB7c/VkiXHyx97Ek1K2vkK07Lrd5pAPgubKqFwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1920/girl-2034836_1920.jpg" style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1920" height="328" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pbh3U6-toYE/YEP2Cx8OYmI/AAAAAAAAB7c/VkiXHyx97Ek1K2vkK07Lrd5pAPgubKqFwCLcBGAsYHQ/w493-h328/girl-2034836_1920.jpg" width="493" /></a></div><br />I’m so fucking lonely. <br /><br />This lockdown has broken me. Literally. Last month I had a mental breakdown from it all where I cried nonstop for days, had nonstop panic attacks, and even went as far as to make plans for the teen in the event that the intrusive voices win, and I decided to not live anymore.<div><span><a name='more'></a></span><br />This prompted my GP to go into action mode and we are looking at pharmaceutical ways to help me while my mental health nurse tries to give me coping techniques to try and help push the brain goblins back in their cage. <br /><br />It's not easy though and there have been more times than not where I’ve told myself if I hold on till bedtime I can fall apart then. Anything to get through the day really.<br /><br />I am starting to come out of it and the multiple daily panic attacks have started to subside but I still feel like I’m holding on by the skin of my teeth. <br /><br />I’m so lonely. It’s been almost 70 days since I’ve seen Daddy and he was the last person I saw face to face besides the teen. I hate this distance apart and it has been making me feel like I’m not as connected to him. The physical distance is creating an emotional distance for me. I struggle to let people in at the best of times so this whole covid cock-block is making it harder for me to keep my walls down for him. <br /><br />Speaking of cock block, It’s been 74 days since I’ve had any intimacy. Kinky or otherwise. And I know that’s had an effect on me too. I’m a nympho. I need that release. And when I can’t get it I get stressed and then it seems I get really sad. I haven’t gone this long without sex in some form since I popped my cherry age 16. That’s 18 years. My sex life is old enough to rent porn and yet no amount of porn, toys or otherwise is scratching this itch. And believe me I have tried. I've developed this fun wee quirk where I burst into tears after I orgasm which is really freaking me out. Only time I cried after I came before was cause Daddy had pushed me into this magically intense orgasm that made me cry happy tears. These are not happy tears. These are my life is so far from where I want it to be and I can't fix it so what's the point in even being here tears. Not good.<br /><br />I need a release across the board – mentally, emotionally and physically. <br /><br />I just hope I get it soon cause this daily fight is getting harder and harder.<br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-29490679548986048122021-02-17T00:38:00.001+00:002021-02-17T00:43:57.795+00:00Desire and Need<p> </p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QkTL2UGjoC8/YCxjnBjNnII/AAAAAAAAB54/AdgLMJYAqXwIdqdccy7hUXFqhUZ9gd4SwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1099/nipple.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1099" height="499" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QkTL2UGjoC8/YCxjnBjNnII/AAAAAAAAB54/AdgLMJYAqXwIdqdccy7hUXFqhUZ9gd4SwCLcBGAsYHQ/w514-h499/nipple.jpg" width="514" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>The cold steel against my erect nipple, knowing that at any moment, the blade could draw blood. <br /><br />His eyes on mine. With a smirk on his face, he pulled my legs apart and began to run his fingers along my slit. Teasing before he probe his fingers deep inside me. A gasp escapes my lips as his eyes glow with wicked intentions.Deeper his fingers slide into me.<br /><br />My wetness giving away just how much I longed for this. <br /><br />My desire to be taken by him. <br /><br />My need to be used.<br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p></p>
<div align="center"><a href="https://wickedwednesday.net/" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" title="Wicked Wednesday"><img alt="Wicked Wednesday" height="150" src="https://wickedwednesday.net/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/rainbowcircle11-e1595151199386.png" style="border: none;" width="150" /></a> <a href="https://mollysdailykiss.com/february-photofest/" rel="nofollow noopener" style="text-align: left;" target="_blank" title="February Photofest"><img alt="February Photofest" src="https://mollysdailykiss.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/February-Photofest-2021-150.jpg" style="border: none;" /></a></div><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-31490943483124063852021-02-17T00:06:00.000+00:002021-02-17T00:06:09.623+00:00Lets chat about CNC<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mCnhSzDbaAI/YCxaAfIDAmI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/5j1glaB1FU8Xmui5Ty0Uhj36TyFQ_XsOACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/feet.png" imageanchor="1" style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1527" data-original-width="2048" height="362" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mCnhSzDbaAI/YCxaAfIDAmI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/5j1glaB1FU8Xmui5Ty0Uhj36TyFQ_XsOACLcBGAsYHQ/w485-h362/feet.png" width="485" /></a></div><br />A wee while ago I did a post on <b><a href="http://www.sexandspanx.co.uk/2020/03/lets-chat-about-edge-play.html">edge play</a></b>, and in it I talked about a rather taboo topic, Consensual non consent, or CNC as its normally referred to. <br /><br /><b>I will say here that this post will discuss things of a violent sexual nature so if that is a trigger for you then please don’t continue reading. </b><div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div><br /></div><div>I will be discussing rape in a fantasy setting. I will also be using the references of Dom and sub in my explanation as that is my dynamic however you don’t have to be in the BDSM lifestyle to participate in CNC. So long as you follow the rules, it doesn’t matter the dynamic. <br /><br />Ok, so let’s get into it, so to speak. <br /><br />CNC is all about giving permission (consenting) to an act that to most seems taboo. Every part of the scene has been discussed and agreed to prior to starting and, at all times, the Dom must adhere to a safe word. If the safe word is used, the scene stops. At its core it is just like any other agreed upon sex act. It's only in the details can it get a bit taboo. <br /><br />CNC is also called rape play, and like the name suggest, it can get quite aggressive. I agree rape isn’t something that should be joked about or taken lightly, but CNC isn’t about wanting to violently assault your partner. It's about the control. <br /><br />For the Dom, it's more intense control of their sub, and for the sub it’s a way to be controlled and perhaps challenge that control to an intense level. Like I said though, <b>it all stops when the safe word is said</b> and THAT is what makes it wildly different. No one who participates in CNC wants to get attacked or to attack someone, it’s not about that. It’s a controlled aggressive act, as weird as that sounds. <br /><br /><b>How can it possibly be controlled?</b> </div><div>In the same way that every other scene is. Trust is a huge part of any scene, but I would say more so with CNC. For example, I have been with Daddy over a year, and we both would like to do a CNC scene. I know that in the scene it will get nasty. To anyone looking in, it would look like a violent sexual assault is happening, however I have the trust in Daddy that no matter how <i>into it</i> he gets, he will pull back should I need him to, and he will stop immediately when I use the safe word. We have that connection that he can read my body and my reactions, even in our more aggressive play where he knows what I can and cannot tolerate. If he’s in doubt he won’t do it until we have discussed it and even then, he always builds up to it. In a CNC scene, I know he will always be observing and that makes me feel comfortable enough to really let go like that. <br /><br />Would I recommend CNC with a random hook up? Abso-fucking-lutely not. I wouldn’t recommend 95% of what we do, or most people in the kink community do with some random hook up. Too much could go wrong and without the trust, you’re risking way too much. <br /><br /><b>So, what do you do?</b> </div><div>The actual activities themselves are between the participants –<i> Are clothes to be ripped? Will restraints be used? What language can be used? Can I spit, bite, slap?</i> Etc. All that is between those involved and should always be discussed prior to the scene. Like with any sexual encounter, it can’t be changed on a whim either. If all parties agree to no biting and then the “attacker” leaves a dental impression on a shoulder then the rules have been broken, and it is no longer consensual. This is where having a partner who can control themselves is so important. Dom’s, at least in my experience and understanding, practice this at all times so they can keep a level head (no pun intended). <br /><b><br />So why do people get upset about it?</b> </div><div>This is a question I ask myself all the time when talking to people about topics like sex, and sometimes I just don’t get it. The majority of us like to talk or read about sex. Be it on a blog like this, or erotic books. Be it talking about the affairs of your favourite celebs or chatting with your friends about the scandalous comings and goings of Stacy down the street. Everyone has an opinion and unfortunately some people like to push their opinion onto others. That includes what they should and shouldn’t like in the bedroom. HOWEVER, not everyone is the same, and so long as its legal and consensual then who cares? </div><div><br /></div><div>CNC is 100% consensual, it’s the word rape that makes people flinch. Even I, before I started researching the world of kinks and BDSM was ashamed of my CNC fantasies. I had a partner who made me feel like I was a psycho for wanting to experiment and his aversions made me feel like I was wrong somehow, when the reality is, my tastes in bed are just different from his. <br /><br /><b>But what if it triggers past trauma? </b></div><div>This is a very important point, and one that I completely agree with. If you have experienced sexual assault in the past, then there is a high probability that CNC is not for you. It may bring back the trauma and the last thing on this planet I would want to do is make someone feel shitty about their sex life. That’s not to say that because you have dealt with it in the past you can’t participate. I’ve spoken to people who have experienced assault who enjoy CNC as they are able to separate the two. That is for you and you alone to decide.</div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><div>My final point on CNC is aftercare. It is going to be an intense scene for everyone. Lots of emotions and possibly some physical damage may take place, so you need to have the proper wind down. Doms included. You can’t just have an aggressive play and then pop off to the supermarket. Its important mentally as well as physically to take care of yourself and to get back into the right headspace before continuing with your day. <br /><br />Kink safely, kink responsibly and have fun.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-53495178751785398102021-02-16T22:45:00.002+00:002021-02-17T00:39:25.103+00:00Wanking Wand<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XzfcsDnfnZY/YCxKCZ-PkGI/AAAAAAAAB5M/uTF0KVDmBRc4LFlk_gQR8BBnZ3weu74zQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/20210216_165052.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="409" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XzfcsDnfnZY/YCxKCZ-PkGI/AAAAAAAAB5M/uTF0KVDmBRc4LFlk_gQR8BBnZ3weu74zQCLcBGAsYHQ/w545-h409/20210216_165052.jpg" width="545" /></a></div><p></p>Daddy’s valentines pressie arrived – A masturbation toy. It’s not what I thought it was gonna be like, in a way its better, but I have no idea what he’ll think of it.<div><br /></div><div><br />
<div align="center"><a href="https://mollysdailykiss.com/february-photofest/" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank" title="February Photofest"><img alt="February Photofest" src="https://mollysdailykiss.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/February-Photofest-2021-150.jpg" style="border: none;" /></a></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-49322723506821484242021-02-15T01:33:00.002+00:002021-02-17T00:39:53.436+00:00Sad bubbles<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wHTMPihH3rA/YCxIiLulObI/AAAAAAAAB5A/DpNRX4HtI6A9bN0b37ETTceOb82EpUIkwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/20191217_044258.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1379" height="476" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wHTMPihH3rA/YCxIiLulObI/AAAAAAAAB5A/DpNRX4HtI6A9bN0b37ETTceOb82EpUIkwCLcBGAsYHQ/w320-h476/20191217_044258.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />I'm feeling unbelievably sad these days. Like I just wanna go to bed and I don't care if I wake up kinda sad.<p></p><p><br /></p><p>But that's not an option. I can't quit so I have to keep on fighting, even if that means crying in the bathtub with some stress relieving bubbles.</p><p><br /></p><p>Having a mental illness is hard at the best of times, but all this isolation with Covid has just magnified everything. Be kind to people - You never know the battles they face on a daily basis. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div align="center"><a href="https://mollysdailykiss.com/february-photofest/" rel="nofollow noopener" title="February Photofest" target="_blank"><img src="https://mollysdailykiss.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/February-Photofest-2021-150.jpg" alt="February Photofest" style="border:none;" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-67307458268367109032021-02-14T04:14:00.004+00:002021-02-14T19:44:59.499+00:00Fuck Valentines Day<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yrG3w_e70DM/YCijOBSQXFI/AAAAAAAAB34/bI43jYkaCDoAb4qeGi-7xSOZnkXNKa2qQCLcBGAsYHQ/s626/Anti-Valentines-Day.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="287" data-original-width="626" height="239" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yrG3w_e70DM/YCijOBSQXFI/AAAAAAAAB34/bI43jYkaCDoAb4qeGi-7xSOZnkXNKa2qQCLcBGAsYHQ/w521-h239/Anti-Valentines-Day.jpg" width="521" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">What is the baa-humbug for Valentine’s day?</div><br />Its yet another February 14th and once again I am gonna be spending it alone. Here’s the plot twist though … I’m not single. In fact, I haven’t been single the last 8 valentines days AND YET I have spent the last 5 of them alone.<div><br /></div><div><span></span><span><a name='more'></a></span>I fucking hate valentines day now. All I want is a girly gushy valentines day – which I hate myself for wanting btw – but it never happens. <br /><br />This year is my 2nd valentines with Daddy – Last year he had a gig which was arranged before he even knew I existed so I can’t fault that and while lockdown this year is a valid reason, I’m allowed a bubble. That means I can have one person, which I choose to be him and yet I’m gonna be alone. <br /><br />My Facebook bringing back the memories of Valentines gone by. Like the time when the ex started an argument over nothing, and I ended up crying for hours on the sofa with a bottle of wine – the picture of the bottle with the caption<i> “Does it matter if its room temp?”</i> reminding me. No-one knew my pain but me and him. Looking back, I can only wonder if those hours away were spent dick deep in another woman, since he was fond of the double dip. I hated how that felt and yet here I am years later feeling the same sadness in my heart now as I did then. I’m so unbelievably lonely and I’m tired of it. I’m fucking fed up. <br /><br />Valentine's day is supposed to be a day for romance – and while it shouldn’t be, every day should be about romance, sometimes we all want that little something special. I don’t even care about getting a present – I just want to be loved. I want that physical touch with the man I love. I want to feel wanted. Except for the hug and kiss goodnight from the teen, and the occasional high five when he wins a gaming battle, I’ve been deprived of physical contact. I found myself the other day asking the teen for a hug and I just broke down in tears – <i>really freaking him out by the way</i> – but I couldn’t help it. I’m a tactile person. I need physical touch. I’ve gone past skin hunger – I’m now starved. <br /><br />I know it’s just another day – That it means fuck all, only to sell chocolate and flowers at a ridiculously inflated mark up, but I can’t help it. I’m feeling so starved for affection, even the cheesy day that is Valentines feels like a bit of a kick in the tit. <br /><br />I’m moaning. I know this. I guess I just want to get this off my chest and out of my head – It's more productive that sobbing into a pillow again.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /></div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-75831746646940815052021-02-12T14:00:00.001+00:002021-02-17T00:40:25.429+00:00Stitching After Dark<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-swqK3o48J8k/YCxCr7Ox8II/AAAAAAAAB4o/O4ok9v069JUWuvrRvrfz8qKEHdca3UucwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/20210213_202206.jpg" style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1030" data-original-width="2048" height="326" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-swqK3o48J8k/YCxCr7Ox8II/AAAAAAAAB4o/O4ok9v069JUWuvrRvrfz8qKEHdca3UucwCLcBGAsYHQ/w648-h326/20210213_202206.jpg" width="648" /></a></div><br />I’m trying to keep myself busy in the run up to valentines day. I’m gonna be alone again this year and its both pissing me off and making me sad as fuck, so instead I’m gonna distract myself with some naughty cross stitch. <b><a href="https://urbanstitches.co.uk/after-dark-sal/" target="_blank">Urban Stitches</a></b> have a stitch-along project called <i>"after dark"</i> where each week they will release a new naughty section. I have a few weeks to catch up on as they are about to drop week 7 and I’m only just joining in, but I’ve already made my own alternative to weeks 2 and 3. <br /><br />Flying fanny’s, cocks with wings, ball gags and butt plugs. <br /><br />This isn’t the stitching your granny would do 😊<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://mollysdailykiss.com/february-photofest/" rel="nofollow noopener" title="February Photofest" target="_blank"><img src="https://mollysdailykiss.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/February-Photofest-2021-150.jpg" alt="February Photofest" style="border:none;" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-28215372810026546082021-02-11T22:28:00.002+00:002021-02-17T00:41:13.546+00:00Throwback Naughty<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SPCRKF7SBck/YCxHGObVWbI/AAAAAAAAB40/ZzMOgnNIMH8tEvTY9e0K_jyr29N_FdxcgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/20200101_163006.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1518" height="560" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SPCRKF7SBck/YCxHGObVWbI/AAAAAAAAB40/ZzMOgnNIMH8tEvTY9e0K_jyr29N_FdxcgCLcBGAsYHQ/w415-h560/20200101_163006.jpg" width="415" /></a></div><br /> A #ThrowbackThursday to the first time I was too far apart from Daddy and I made him a naughty video in the bath tub.<p></p><p><br /></p><p>FYI - That's not just water and those aren't wrinkles from the bubbles ... Just saying.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div align="center"><a href="https://mollysdailykiss.com/february-photofest/" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank" title="February Photofest"><img alt="February Photofest" src="https://mollysdailykiss.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/February-Photofest-2021-150.jpg" style="border: none;" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-63799440233433385322021-02-10T22:55:00.006+00:002021-02-11T15:33:39.912+00:00Depression sucks<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pp-oFsV0Pic/YCRjQWV73FI/AAAAAAAAB3U/ydbPqKqSjAIBmdk_4nTYd8Rv76QESIG7wCLcBGAsYHQ/s960/piano-571968_960_720.webp" style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="642" data-original-width="960" height="413" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pp-oFsV0Pic/YCRjQWV73FI/AAAAAAAAB3U/ydbPqKqSjAIBmdk_4nTYd8Rv76QESIG7wCLcBGAsYHQ/w619-h413/piano-571968_960_720.webp" width="619" /></a></div><b><i>TW - Self harm, mental breakdown, suicidal feelings</i></b><br /><br /><div>Depression sucks. <br /><br />I feel like I’m living in a constant internal battle with myself. No, not myself. With brain goblins. Little creatures of darkness that take pleasure from slowly and systematically tearing my brain apart. <br /><br />I’m so unbelievably lonely just now but when I have the confidence to reach out, I get his feeling that I’m going to be a bother. Like there is so much going on at the moment with Covid that people in my life don’t need to deal with my madness too. <br /><br />And it is madness. I know this. The thoughts that go through my head on a now daily basis are the things of a crazy person. Whenever I think my horrible shit a small memory of a Greg Davies stand up comes to my mind and I smirk, <i>“Its not normal love”. </i>And it’s not normal. <br /><br />Most people can pick up a pen to write something in their idea book – a painting idea based on the black zodiac – and not think <i>“It might help if you jam this pen deep into your thigh”</i>. That wouldn’t help anything … ever. When most people make a cup of tea, I'm sure they don't have this weird urge to put their hand in the kettle and I'm almost positive most people don't want to smash their face of a wall just to give a justifiable reason for their tears.I know I’m looking for a distraction from the despair. And previously that was self-harm. <br /><br />I don’t want to do that, but I know it works. I feel like my mind is spiralling completely out of control and I have no way to rein it in. In the past when I felt that loss of control of my life, I would do something drastic – Cut my hair short, eat till I threw up, cut myself. While all of these actions are self-destructive, they do give me a sense of people over myself. Like for one short moment in life, I had a say in what I felt. But I don’t want to cut all my hair off, the pain of my suspected IBD and my gallstones make me sick enough and Daddy would be gutted if I cut myself. <br /><br />I got so low yesterday that I confided in him that I wanted to self-harm and felt it was a necessary. I’ve been wanting to tell him for the last few days that I’m reaching my lowest point, but I haven’t felt like I could. And that’s on me. Daddy has made it clear at every turn that I can talk to him about anything – no judgment, but lately he has been so busy with work that when he is home, he falls asleep mid conversation so him waking up to me saying please help me, isn’t what he needs. He has so much going on in his life that I feel shame adding to the stress. He is distant from me geographically and because of my feeling toxic, I am being pushed to feeling distant from him emotionally. <br /><br />In December I caved and agreed to therapy for my mental health – Severe depression, anxiety, and PTSD. <br /><br />I HATE having to explain my mind to people who I feel might judge me. I know their opinion shouldn’t matter; I know people who read my blog might be judging me but having a person in front of you give you that look. That fucking look. It’s a mix of pity and a little fear, like at any point I might open an artery and make it rain all over them. I didn’t want to open the box of horrors inside my head, but I knew I needed to. There is only so long you can push that stuff down before it starts to bleed all over your life. Daddy was confident I could handle it and he said he would help me through it, but thanks to lockdown he’s not been able to really help. He’s too far away from me and I can’t really break apart on a text message. I can’t do that to him. I want to be someone that makes him happy and that he associates with love and happiness, not this crazy bitch who is going mad locked away inside a prison she made by herself. <br /><br />I’m struggling with lockdown, I’m struggling with being apart from Daddy, I’m struggling with dealing with my past trauma and I’m struggling with overthinking EVERYTHING. <br /><br />Daddy asked me to please not hurt myself. And I won’t, as I can’t let him down. But I have no idea what to do to distract the goblins. I’m having a breakdown and I’m powerless to stop it. <br /><br />Fuck. <br /><br /> </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-19117911298509152402021-02-09T12:30:00.003+00:002021-02-17T00:41:33.582+00:00Tittie Tuesday<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UzzHfIQpP4o/YCRf1PzjQsI/AAAAAAAAB3I/cnzxiztikMoORS3ALrXuOtZJRFoUADNtgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1426/20200203_140458.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1345" data-original-width="1426" height="512" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UzzHfIQpP4o/YCRf1PzjQsI/AAAAAAAAB3I/cnzxiztikMoORS3ALrXuOtZJRFoUADNtgCLcBGAsYHQ/w542-h512/20200203_140458.jpg" width="542" /></a></div><br />Long gone are the days where I could fit my gals in a dainty little D cup – Awe those were the days. You could pick up a bra practically anywhere and they came in every colour and pattern imaginable. I didn’t realise them how blessed I truly was.<br /><br />Now I am a member of the big tittie committee I pretty much live in sports bras or the basic black lace, which loses its sex appeal after the millionth time you see it. <br /><br />I wonder how hard it will be to make my own underwear. Hell, I could make any kind of bra I wanted then. I could be sexy as fuck instead of wearing underwear that my gran wouldn’t blush at seeing I the washing basket.<p><br /></p><div align="center"><a href="https://mollysdailykiss.com/february-photofest/" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank" title="February Photofest"><img alt="February Photofest" src="https://mollysdailykiss.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/February-Photofest-2021-150.jpg" style="border: none;" /></a> <br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-73151925623450068932021-02-08T22:21:00.002+00:002021-02-11T15:40:27.208+00:00Massive boobies Monday<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lgZhAuVQjgY/YCRcmBcyqDI/AAAAAAAAB28/AsUVDoeGlLE9JwdrhPS-aUMvdqU6rIPtgCLcBGAsYHQ/s720/20200218_150047%2B%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="720" height="460" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lgZhAuVQjgY/YCRcmBcyqDI/AAAAAAAAB28/AsUVDoeGlLE9JwdrhPS-aUMvdqU6rIPtgCLcBGAsYHQ/w637-h460/20200218_150047%2B%25282%2529.jpg" width="637" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Is massive boobies Monday a thing? Mammary Monday perhaps?</div><br /> <p></p><div align="center"><a href="https://mollysdailykiss.com/february-photofest/" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank" title="February Photofest"><img alt="February Photofest" src="https://mollysdailykiss.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/February-Photofest-2021-150.jpg" style="border: none;" /></a> <a href="https://tellmeabout.site/photography/" rel="nofollow noopener" style="text-align: left;" target="_blank" title="Monochromerotic"><img alt="Monochromerotic" height="150" src="https://tellmeabout.site/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/Mono-Erotic-3-1.png" width="150" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-67827448793470835442021-02-07T13:10:00.000+00:002021-02-10T22:16:13.746+00:00Bubbles<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jIVUMbjqChw/YCRZ-N50cRI/AAAAAAAAB2w/qxhAq-1Y0nwOpsOIVsMiYkfsBg40DRLTACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/20210209_143017.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="803" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jIVUMbjqChw/YCRZ-N50cRI/AAAAAAAAB2w/qxhAq-1Y0nwOpsOIVsMiYkfsBg40DRLTACLcBGAsYHQ/w602-h803/20210209_143017.jpg" width="602" /></a></div> I love the feel of foamy bubbles on my soft, smooth skin. The hot water around me like a wet hug.<p></p><p><br /></p>
<div align="center"><a href="https://mollysdailykiss.com/february-photofest/" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank" title="February Photofest"><img alt="February Photofest" src="https://mollysdailykiss.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/February-Photofest-2021-150.jpg" style="border: none;" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2333380744841772070.post-15735094497001398902021-02-07T04:16:00.005+00:002021-02-07T04:16:52.152+00:00His happiness is my Reward<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GqVvky1wQOc/YB9mX1d8kbI/AAAAAAAAB2I/ZbaNOgRRchkR0nEZ5Kt8ZO4v9I1dCpxeACLcBGAsYHQ/s1920/boudoir-4669606_1920.jpg" style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1920" height="345" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GqVvky1wQOc/YB9mX1d8kbI/AAAAAAAAB2I/ZbaNOgRRchkR0nEZ5Kt8ZO4v9I1dCpxeACLcBGAsYHQ/w519-h345/boudoir-4669606_1920.jpg" width="519" /></a></div><br />I was talking to my therapist the other day and we got onto the topic of Daddy. She is not well versed in all things BDSM, I had to explain a few sessions ago what that meant. When I talk about my dynamic, I do keep it to the point. It’s not always relevant to the session and when he does come up in conversation, I always refer to him by his name.<div><span><a name='more'></a></span> <br />This is an agreement between Daddy and I, that when in public or in conversation, where it would be somewhat inappropriate to call him Daddy, I am allowed to call him by his name, or baby. I quite like the latter as using his name feels harsh somehow. Same as I would feel if he called me by my name. It just doesn’t sit right. <br /><br />Anyway, we were talking about my having not been out of my room since the end of December, other than to go to the bathroom, and how I could build up the motivation to do so. This plays into my mental health quite a bit but to sum it up she wanted me to have our next video call in the Livingroom. When she answered the call on Friday and seen I was down there, she was thrilled to bits and asked how I managed it, simple answer … Daddy. <br /><br />He too was a little concerned that it had been so long and decided to make a request – <i>read order</i> – that I be in the Livingroom 4 days over the next week for at least 1 hour. And I did it. <br /><br />She was thrilled and when we talked about it, (she’s keen to roping him in to help with more of my treatment), I realised how I was able to put my anxiety out of my head for a short period of time – It’s because I wanted to please Daddy. Doing something like that, even if I don’t really want to (for silly reasons) makes him happy, and in return that happiness is my reward. When he seen I was in the Living Room, he told me he was proud of me which I’m starting to love. I love making him proud of me. I love making him happy and it makes me happy knowing the gorgeous smile on his face is because of me. It makes doing the things he asks me easier cause even if it's not something that really merits a <i>“reward”</i>, I have still made him happy which in its own way is a reward which satisfies my submissive needs. <br /><br />I wanna clarify that though because I know some people might twitch at that statement. <div><br /></div><div>While yeah, I didn’t want to leave my room – <i>It's my safe space where I can be in my own little nest and essentially hide away from the world and the difficulty of life just now</i> – Its not healthy. I am 100% aware of that, but when it comes to actually making the change needed, I can easily become overwhelmed. Thanks to lockdown and Covid life, my anxiety has got to the point that even leaving my room can trigger an anxiety attack. On these occasions Daddy can sometimes step in to help. <br /><br />He looks at the situation, assesses it and then will make<i> “requests”</i>. I am usually given a time scale for things (the 4 days over a week for example) and he is encouraging the whole time. If it’s something I really <u>REALLY</u> don’t think I can cope with, he will either break it down further, perhaps only asking me to leave my room once, or he will give me a temporary pass. This is when we will work our way up to something, and I mean we as he is with me every step, even if it’s only remotely due to distance. <br /><br />He never makes me do anything that is dangerous or will be hurtful to me. He only ever tries to improve my life, including helping with my recovery. To some people I can understand how it might look. The notion of a request does infer that there will be a punishment of some kind for failing but I’ve never came across one. It’s never even been brought up. Because when it comes to my mental illness, he would never punish me and he would never use it against me. <br /><br />He loves to take care of me. That is what makes him happy. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6v88XjllRQk/YB9pXFbKNYI/AAAAAAAAB2U/sofDrbYgqHs8PcFRy69LzEu23vUduYLHACLcBGAsYHQ/s500/IMG_20200116_014634.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="326" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6v88XjllRQk/YB9pXFbKNYI/AAAAAAAAB2U/sofDrbYgqHs8PcFRy69LzEu23vUduYLHACLcBGAsYHQ/w434-h326/IMG_20200116_014634.jpg" width="434" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>He is a caregiver Dom first and foremost and he likes to take care of his baby girl. To him, that is his role as a Daddy and when he can’t it causes him stress. It’s a balance I can struggle though. On my really bad mental health days, nothing can help me and I can feel guilty that my illness has a negative impact on him, but we have discussed this and we both understand/agree that there are somethings I have to just handle on my own. He’s happy to stand at the side, watching and waiting to get tagged in if he can help. He loves me and loves to make me happy. <br /><br />And in return, his happiness makes me happy. It’s the reward I get as his submissive. It's not the only one though. He is also a pleasure Dom for example, which pretty much guarantees that I’m going to cum till I pass out, but that in itself makes me happy, which makes him happy and round and round we go. <br /><br />Being in out dynamic is amazing because there are so many different aspects to it. It’s a franken-relationship. We have picked the parts of things we like – a handful of D/s, a touch of S&M, a sprinkle of service and a good dose of DDlg, all mixed together and poured into what we already have as a foundation of a good relationship - patience, understanding, compassion, desire to care and protect the other person, and unconditional love. It comes naturally to us which means we never see our relationship as <i>work</i> or something we <i>have to</i> deal with. It's only when outside factors, like lockdown come into it, that we have to work at a solution.</div><div><br /></div><div>What we have is unique to us and it’s what we want our relationship to be like. His pleasure as a Dom is making me happy and my pleasure as a sub is to see him happy. <br /><br />It’s a win-win all round.<br /><br /></div>
<div align="center"><a href="https://lillithavir.com/category/no-true-way/" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" title="No True Way"><img alt="No True Way" data-opt-src="https://lillithavir.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/NTWBadge250-.jpg" height="123" src="https://lillithavir.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/NTWBadge250-.jpg" style="border: none;" width="123" /></a></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0