Finding my kink

Me wearing a fluffy tail

When I started exploring my kinky side I thought I didn’t know I was even interested in kink. But thinking back, the signs were there, even as far back as my early 20’s. At that time (I think I mentioned before), I wrote stories in longhand that often included threesomes and other kinky stuff. But somewhere amidst the monotony of a vanilla marriage and motherhood I forgot. So it wasn’t until the age of digital books and the internet that my kink side began to find the light of day again. By then I had the time to investigate and a husband who tended to fall asleep of an evening!

What is kink anyway?

According to Wikipedia kinkiness is defined as “the use of non conventional sexual practice“. the kink part being about a bend (or kink) rather than straight (or vanilla). The thing is of course, who decides what is straight and what is kinky? Who decides that kink is bad and straight is good? There are laws of indecency of course and attempts to make stuff that happens in private the business of others.

Earlier this year we expected the age verification legislation to come into effect here in the UK. I am all for preventing children accessing porn, but there was a feeling this was aimed at the kink community. Including those that photographed it and wrote about it. So far this hasn’t come into place, and anyway actually having sex, kinky or vanilla has nothing to do with porn. Though to be fair the internet is where many of us have found out about kink.

My early experiences of kink

I’d had very little actual sex let alone indulged in kink as I approached 50. My husband was interested, but mainly in watching others (on a screen). I often pretended to be shocked by some of the TV and videos he watched. But I was actually very interested indeed. I just couldn’t see me doing those things with him. Sadly I didn’t heed the warning signs that we obviously weren’t compatible. That came much later.

Exploring sex and kink at 50

As I mentioned above, I began reading sex and erotica when I got my first kindle. But in April 2012 I began chatting with a man online who was into Dominance and submission. This led me to read not only books but blogs and to join website forums. Very quickly I learned about BDSM and found myself intrigued. But also I found I wanted to try what I was reading about. The idea of me as a submissive woman excited me, as did the thought of restraint and kinky sex.

My initiation was rapid and not without risks. But from the first meeting with S I knew it was for me. I realised that I’d kept myself in check for many years.

Not long before meeting S, I had explored my own body and the ways I could make it aroused. I had found out as much as I could about masturbation and bought toys for myself. I discovered my orgasms were much more powerful with a clitoral vibrator. But while enjoyable it wasn’t entirely satisfying.

Before long though I was definitely having kinky sex, not to mention getting involved in other aspects of BDSM. While not everything that happened with S was good, he helped me realise what I wanted from life. This made meeting and becoming Master’s submissive then slave all the easier.

Our kinky life now

There is very little about our sex life that could be described as straight or vanilla. Save that we often have sex in the missionary position. But there are always overtones of M/s. We don’t play as often as we did at the beginning, but we have a room full of equipment and we do use it. We go to Munches and clubs and we have stayed in dungeons. Then there is the fact that we take photos of each other in a state of undress or practicing our art (see photo above). We live full time as a Master / slave couple and that in itself is far from straight.

For me this is the life I craved, yet didn’t know it. I thought there was something wrong with me because I didn’t want sex with my husband. But it turns out that we just weren’t right together. Now I have found the right man I am proud to say that I am kinky and proud of it.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked


I love a bubble bath, but I love bubbles created in a jacuzzi even more. This photo was taken earlier in the year when we were in Holland. I didn’t share it at the time because I wasn’t sure I was ready to show this much of me. But increasingly I am feeling proud of my body as it is. So, bubbles, boob and all, this is my Sinful Sunday for this week.

I am in the jacuzzi. Bubbles surround me. Just my top half is visible. My collar, right breast and the scar from my right mastectomy.
Sinful Sunday

Abortion: A woman’s right

I’m lucky, I’ve never been in a position to have to consider whether I want to be pregnant or not. I haven’t had to go through the turmoil of wondering who to tell or what people will think about me. Not about that anyway. As a nurse, I looked after a many people following the loss of a pregnancy, whether planned or not. But thankfully I never had to worry about legality either. While others went through that decision I always believed abortion would never be my choice. However that is also because I also believe that it is a woman’s right to choose.

Early knowledge

A girl in my class at school was pregnant when we took our ‘o’ levels. She had an abortion and went on to marry and have 3 children before she was 21. I don’t know what happened to her after that. I now know that a teenage pregnancy drastically reduces a person’s life chances. Making them less likely to have achieved a degree and more likely to live in poverty (more of that later).

But as a 16 year old who had never had sex with her boyfriend, I wasn’t concerned with my class mate. I was too busy continuing my school career and getting the qualifications to become a nurse.


In 1981 I was a second year student nurse on her gynaecology placement. This took place at a small hospital for women in soho. This was a place where I learned some interesting things that it took a while for my 19 year old brain to digest. The first is that at the time a woman seeking a sterilisation needed the consent of her husband. Secondly, a woman in a relationship may still seek to have a termination of pregnancy even if the foetus is health. Thirdly that you could object to being in theatre when a pregnancy is terminated but as a nurse you have a duty to care for the woman before and after the event. This proved to be a useful guide to my future career. You may not always agree with people’s life choices, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t receive care, support and a human touch. We are not there to judge people, but to support them through the choices they have made.

My own pregnancy

This was planned and wanted. It only happened once and I remain a bit sad about that. But as I said at the top of this piece, I do consider myself lucky never to have needed to worry about being pregnant.

In hindsight I wish I’d been a little less controlled and a bit more free spirited. But my husband was less risk averse than me and so an unplanned pregnancy was unlikely.

Until I was menopausal that is. In my 50th year I embarked on a relationship with S and we rarely had protected sex. I have often wondered what I would have done had I become pregnant. By then of course, we had the morning after pill and medical terminations taking place at clinics rather than acute hospitals. Still it didn’t happen, so I will never know.

Later career experiences

Around 10 years ago my job included leading on teenage pregnancy. As the agency responsible for improving the health of the local population and buying the services to do it we were tasked with reducing rates. This meant I spent time with midwives, social workers, policy makers and young people themselves. I learned about the complex reasons for people accessing abortion services or not. Those conversations took me right back to the beginning and my class mate getting pregnant at 16.

Much money has been poured into addressing the teenage pregnancy rates in England. Numbers have reduced drastically, though this hasn’t necessarily dealt with the social disadvantage those young people experience. We have had programmes such as Family Nurse Partnership that have helped. But low pregnancy numbers and austerity cuts have decimated these services in some areas.

Conception rates here are now masked because it is much easier to prevent pregnancy, deal with the potential of one easily or to get an abortion. This isn’t without it’s problems, but at least it doesn’t deny access.

A woman’s right

In far too many places in the world women are unable to access the means to end pregnancy. If they do not wish to carry on, even if they have been raped or there is something wrong with the baby.

Others apparently can decide that an unviable foetus should be preserved and that even if a woman miscarries she is some way to blame.

This is why I am supporting the Smutathon today and have donated to the charity: National Network of Abortion Funds I believe it is the right of anyone who becomes pregnant and wishes to end that pregnancy for whatever reason to be able to do so.

I urge you to click on the link below, to see who writing today and if you can to donate. What’s more you can also access some actual smut there. Wonderfully crafted smutty writings by highly talented sex writers and bloggers. And what better reward for your efforts could there be?

The Smutathon badge showing a woman in fishnets bending over a chair with tagline Erotic writing for a cause


He used the violet wand on me from the first time we played. I held a respect for all things electric that made it difficult for me to quite trust the wand at first. My dad was an electrician and the idea of someone torturing me with an electric current scared me a little. Even now, I find it somewhat scary.

But there is no doubting that the violet wand is an amazing bit of kit. It works by turning the electrical current into a low watt, high frequency charge like static electricity. And that is exactly what it feels like when the wand attachments touch my skin. It’s just that it’s a continuous flow of static rather than a short burst.

Soon after we met we attended a workshop at Birmingham Bizarre Bazaar which helped me understand how it all worked. It also helped seeing other subs having the wand used on them. Even so, I still feel a bit anxious when Master is using the wand.

Having said that, the tingling feeling as he brushes the wand attachment over my bare skin is quite wonderful. I find it more relaxing if I am blindfolded and then I start to enjoy the feelings. Since I tend to try to jerk my limbs out of the way, then restraint is also a good idea.

He runs a comb attached to the wand through my hair, brushes down my body, paying attention to my nipple piercing. That often does give me a little jolt. Then onwards down my torso, arms and legs. Combined with other stimulus such as from a vibrator, my nerve endings come alive and somehow I become aroused.

When Master uses the violet wand on me, it is just one of a series of sensations he creates. A small element of the process of pain and pleasure.

This is what I wrote in February 2014 after one of my first experiences:

During that session there was cock worship, there was spanking with various implements, and there was ‘the zipper’ (lots of pegs on my pussy this time which are at an opportune moment quickly pulled off all at once). There was also the violet wand which I both love and hate as the electrical stimulations are painful but in a very erotic way. There were nipple clamps, there was the bit in my mouth and as always there was the hitachi. And there was sex too, particularly the anal sex which always has an effect on my emotional state. But also there was lots of touching – Him touching my body and me his.

Feb 2014

Sadly we haven’t played with the violet wand much in recent times. I know that by writing this, something is highly likely to happen! After all, Master reads all of my blog posts!

Being pierced

My left breast with a small bite to the left of the nipple. I have a piercing with a semi circular ring in situ. the colour contrast between the area of my chest that has seen the sun and that which has been in my bra are marked. The sun is also shining on the paler area.

We had been together just a matter of weeks when I became a pierced woman. I’d had my ears pierced as a teenager, but body piercings weren’t something I had considered until I was in my 50s.

S had first broached the idea and I have to say I was tempted. But since he wasn’t as committed to our relationship as me, I’m glad that didn’t happen. But when Master suggested nipple and clit piercings to me, I jumped at the chance. To this day, I don’t even know why I was so keen.

Sign of my submission

Or maybe being pierced was something that felt part of my submission. An intimate way of showing him I wanted to be his submissive. It felt right and since he came with me when I had them done, I knew he was serious. I wrote about the experience here, at the time.

Since that time we have discussed the links between my piercings and role as his submissive and slave. Certainly they have been a focus of his attention over the years. That I was willing to do that for him and that he could enjoy them so much.

An aid to pleasure

I always loved having my nipples played with. Also, I loved (and hate) having clamps applied. To begin with, the slight pain following piercing was a turn on in itself. Later once they began to heal I enjoyed trying new jewellery and he loved putting chains between them.

The clit piercing was and still is quite the arousal tool. He loves rubbing his finger, tongue or cock over it. I also like to rub around the bar when I get myself off. Also if I wear something tight I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t take much wriggling to be able to come through my clothes.

It is in a mighty fiddly place though. I can only see it with a mirror and we had the devils job undoing the balls on the bar. So much so that I left it in place till I had surgery last October (4 years). We replaced the metal with a plastic bar which is there now. I have plans to change it and Master has bought me a new jewelled bar. But we are lazy and maybe it won’t be done till after my next surgery.

My one nipple

The histology report on my mastectomy said that the right nipple was chronically inflamed. I have to admit that the piercing continued to weep and crust even after 4 years. The left was always better, especially once I’d had it re-pierced in Amsterdam.

Now of course I have one breast, one nipple and one piercing. The pleasure I used to have when my breast and nipple were stroked and caressed is not so evident. I know this is psychological and hopefully it will subside. Maybe once I have two breasts again, I will take more pleasure in nipple play again. Mean time, I still wear my jewellery and like the way it looks.

Instead of dwelling on this, we are looking forward to new piercings once surgery is done.

Future piercings

We’ve talked for a long time about me getting my inner labia pierced. I’ve written about it and would love it I know. Along with the tattoos we have planned that is the next step. I will need my new breast tattooing with a nipple and I will be looking for someone experienced in that area. At the same time, I hope to get the piercings done too.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Welcome to the pleasure dome

It’s been a long time, at least two weeks, perhaps more. Distance and then various appointments during the first few days back from Cyprus . Now at last we have time, energy and will power.

“You are my pleasure bitch” he says as he slides his cock over my clit piercing and teases my vulva with it. “Welcome to the pleasure dome” I answer.

He says he loves using my piercing to stimulate his cock. It certainly gets me going too. Lubricating his cock with my juice he slides deep inside. It’s been a while since I’ve felt quite so aroused and damn it today I want to come. This isn’t always the case these days, I wrote about that here. But today is different. “I need the new vibrator“, I say and he does no more but pulls away and goes to get it.

I am on my side, he spooned into my back. His cock is deep inside me, hard and almost too big to fit. I open my legs and place the large bulb of the vibrator onto my cunt. The vibrations are deep and strong and he sighs with pleasure. “Is that good?” I ask. “Oh yes, pleasure bitch its good!”

Quickly I feel my orgasm build. From within, where his cock throbs and outside where the machine vibrates my clit jewellery. The orgasm doesn’t take long to build and I am given permission to cum. Recently no count has been long enough, but today I wonder if I can hold it to 1. I do though.

We lie a while, the orgasm pulsating through us both. Finally he gets back on top and tells me he needs to come inside me. To breed me. Soon he his hot spunk is coursing through my vagina, mixing with my own plentiful juices.

Later on, straight after a lunchtime concert recital I go off to the ladies. I am pleased and not at all surprised to see the dampness still emerging onto my panties.

Pleasure dome indeed!

Masturbation Monday


My blog and memes like Sinful Sunday have definitely made me into more of an exhibitionist. But there is someone else who likes to show himself off and who lets me photograph him. This photo was taken on our boat holiday and shows Master letting it all hang loose. So, I’ve called this photo dangling.

Standing in the doorway of our boat. He is wearing a shirt, but no trousers!
Sinful Sunday

Being apart

I arrived home last night, after a week away with my mum. There was so much I missed about being apart from Master. This felt worse because being away with mum made me recognise the changes I have made and why I would never go back.

For so many years I was forced to take the lead in decision making.

My husband struggled to make the most simple decisions. His libra birth sign (the scales) may be relavent, but whatever the reason it was most irritating.

We also led our lives within the constraints of family. My mother especially was dominant and my dad liked us to go along with her wishes. This caused conflict in our own relationship as well as mine with them. But more often than not we did as they wanted.

The last 10 years has seen a lot of change. My husband and I separated, my son and his cousins grew up and moved away, my dad got cancer and died. But more profound from my point of view, I discovered my submission and found myself a new partner who happens to be my Master. I still make decisions but not all decisions and I don’t feel I need to please anyone outside of our relationship.

My mum is a difficult woman to like. She has a sharp tongue, one embittered by perceived wrongs. None of her children do quite enough and decisions we made together are viewed with contempt. She says she is grateful for the things I do, but I know she talks about me to others.

In this context I left the safe environment of my home and took my mum away to Cyprus for a week.

The hotel, weather and food were all good. But always there is an undercurrent of displeasure. She complained about many things and when I made suggestions about how to make things better she would sit with a pained expression. Decisions were for me to make, but when I did they weren’t right either.

Then there was the fact we shared a room. I’ve come home sleep deprived because of the amount she moves around. Plus the sounds she makes in her sleep. I’ve tried to be calm and cheerful. But I have missed Master a lot. Not just because I’d rather sleep with him than my mum. Or because I like that I don’t have to decide on restaurants, or wine. His presence is calming but unfortunately it wouldn’t be if he had been with me. They don’t really get on. My mum never liked any of her children’s partners, though this is denied. So her not liking Master was no real surprise.

I also missed the fun things Master and I tend to do together, the places we go and things we see. That isn’t so much fun alone. My mum is happy to travel for 5 hours on a plane and do nothing when she gets there. On the positive side, I’ve caught up on sleep and rest on a sun bed, read an entire book and enjoyed the pool and sea.

But sadly every minute with my mum reminds me of my life before and to be frank I don’t want it back. She is elderly now, just turned 80. I am doing my best to make her life pleasant and help her do things she wants. But I won’t compromise my own happiness any more. I am glad to be back.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Music – The food of love

Music has been an ever present feature of my life. Apparently Shakespeare’s Twelth Night quote is about using music to cure an obsession with love. I am not obsessional about love, any more than I am about music, but do think the two go hand in hand.


Nursery rhymes were a feature of my young life and I especially remember my grandmother singing them to me, though I am sure my mum did too. Speaking and singing to my own son followed and I loved the way they made him smile and laugh.

At home music was ever present. My parents had a large and varied record collection, my mum also listened to the radio and I especially remember radio programmes as the background to life at home. Tony Blackburn’s dog Arnold, Jimmy Young’s recipe of the day and of course a never ending stream of pop music. This was the 70’s and particularly summer time seemed full of sing along songs. Silence was not something you heard in our house. This is still true in my mum’s home, though while she still listen’s to the radio in the mornings, the noise more often is from the TV. I have since grown to like silence as much as I like to listen to music, but then I don’t live alone.

One Christmas when I was about 13 I recieved a tape deck from my parents. I had peviously had a radio in my room and used the family record player for my own records, but now I could listen to my music in my own room. David Cassidy, David Soul, the Osmands and my personal favourite Bay City Rollers were my teenage prefences. I loved to lay on my bed, dreaming of love or writing romantic fiction while the music wafted over me. Yes, I was something of a romantic.

Live music

Music and lots of it was played at school. I turned out to be pretty inept at playing my own chosen instrument, the clarinet, but there was no shortage of opportunities to listen to others. We also had practice music rooms, where we could go at lunchtime. I taught myself a few tunes on the piano, but in the main stuck to popular music. Luckily our music competitions and school plays encouraged a mixture. It wasn’t that I didn’t like classical music, it was that I didn’t understand it and wasn’t curious enough to find out.

My first experience of live music outside of school was a trip to see Gary Glitter. Sadly he turned out to be a paedophile so being one of ‘my gang’ wouldn’t be the thing now. But at the time, it was fun and exciting. I realised that seeing a singer or band live was a completely different experience to listening to them while lying on your bed at home.

It wasn’t until I was newly married though that I experienced more live music, starting with Queen at Knebworth, which luckily was very close to my then home town. This was live music on a scale I had only seen on TV. It was exciting, spine tingling, sexual even. After that I had the bug and we went to lots of smalleer concerts and then later on Robbie Williams also at Knebworth. In the main, I would never turn up the chance of live music even if I wasn’t sure it was to my taste. The experience and anticipation of being in the same room, hall or field with the musicians is something I love.

Attending classical recitals gives me the same thrill, and that is part of my life now.

A journey into the unknown

Master loves music. Jazz, show music, Lieder, Piano, Chamber and some pop. But he is discerning in his choice and views. He knows what he likes, will give what he doesn’t know a chance but won’t listen if he thinks something is wrong. his abiliity to identify musicians playing early 20th century jazz music is amazing but then he is also good at naming 70’s pop artists. He can tell if a piece is being played at the wrong tempo or if an instrument is out of tune or heaven forbid being played badly.

Being with Master has meant exploring a whole new avenue of music enjoyment and lots and lots of live music to enjoy. I have learned about various composers through attending educational events and festivals. I find the lives and times of Debussy, Wolf, Shumann etc. as fascinating as their music. I don’t claim to have great knowledge, but I am enjoying learning. Music was one of the non kink threads that bound us. We have learned and tolerated each others choices and grown to appreciate our differences.

Master also likes quiet. He loves music but cannot stand ever constant noise, he likes to be able to think. Over the years this is something I have grown to appreciate too. We sometimes have music playing when we eat or play or have sex. But equally there are many times when we don’t. We watch films and TV or actively listen to music of an evening. But sometimes we just sit quietly reading or we talk.


Return to CMnf

I was anxious, almost as scared as the first time. Would people stare at my scar, my lack to a right breast? Would I be able to walk with confidence from the locker room, through the bar and into the play area?
The answer is yes. I did feel self conscious as I removed my clothes, particularly bra. But if others in the locker room noticed anything they didn’t show it. Joining Master at the seats in the open play area he smiled appreciatively. He helped me put on the body chain we had brought with us for the occasion and I sank gratefully onto the sofa and took a sip of prosecco. It was cool and refreshing; I let the bubbles evaporate on my tongue.

The printed agenda for the afternoon informed us that temporary tattoos were available, and since I don’t yet have anything permanent, I went off in search of one. I was pleasantly surprised to find that these were being applied by the team member who has also had a mastectomy.
Months ago, she wrote on Fetlife about attending her first post mastectomy CMnf. I had reached out to her, making contact even though I knew I wouldn’t be attending that one. We had exchanged words of encouragement, so it was good to have this opportunity to speak. She applied my chosen tattoo just above my scar as requested. As we chatted briefly about our shared experience, I knew coming today had been the right thing to do.


We sat on our own for a while and watched as people arrived and the new ones were shown round. There were a few familiar faces, but sadly no one we actually knew. However we were soon joined by a threesome. Two ladies, obviously partners and their clothed Dom. We exchanged pleasantries and then decided to get our playtime in early. Very few people had begun to play yet, so most of the equipment was free, meaning we had maximum choice.
We haven’t played much recently, partly because we didn’t take any toys on holiday (the car was too packed with other stuff for one thing). But it was good to be bent over a bench again, wearing the blindfold Master so thoughtfully gave me. While he sorted out his implements of torture I relaxed into my role and let the sounds of music wash over me. Classical tracks that were easy to escape into, starting with some Bach (so I was told).

Gentle, leather strokes on my back and bottom were followed by the familiar sting of the flogger. Next something altogether firmer and sharper, something bristly then down right painful. I protested and for my trouble was rewarded with clamps being applied to my labia! Apparently, complaining about this was being bratty, but anyway once they were in place they were less panful than another source of arousal.
More impact followed, some more painful than others. But even though I moaned and said no, the idea of asking for him to stop never crossed my mind. I settled into the pain and pleasure, allowed the music and even people’s voices to fill my subconscious. This was truly our best play session in a long time. I felt relaxed and at home. I wasn’t tired or stressed and for once I just let it happen.

Afterwards we returned to our sofa and I spent some time recovering, eating chocolate and drinking prosecco and water for hydration purposed. Our session, which our sofa neighbours had been watching with interest, broke the ice and led to much conversation. The afternoon then passed in a relaxed companionable way with our new found friends (there has been further contact through Fetlife and email), We will hopefully see them again in the future).

Another high point was when I was stopped on my way to the toilet by the club owner’s partner. She and her friend congratulated me on being there and being willing to show my body. She told me I looked great. I have to admit I felt it.
I know I wouldn’t take my top off on a beach right now. It wouldn’t feel right. But Taking my clothes off at CMnf felt good. It took courage, but that was rewarded many times over. The kink community can be truly wonderful, or so it felt last weekend.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked