Kink is my Mindfulness

Today I had to go to a “mindfulness” group. We are all sat on chairs in a circle, like an AA meeting. The group leader says to sit still, close your eyes, and slowly goes through a script, which he knows off by heart. Concentrate your mind on a certain type of feeling, a certain type of sensation, or a certain body part. Try to declutter your mind, to free your body. It all feels a bit silly at first.

Mindfulness is a sort of meditation almost, thinking yourself calm as things around you go belly up. Every time I go there I get asked “how did home practice go?” and I say something evasive like “ohh, I forgot” or “I just did mindfulness in the bath” when what I really want to say is I kinked the hell out of it.

One of the exercises we often do is called a body scan – this is a slow meditation thingamybob where you almost over concentrate on your breathing, your movements, automatic sounds your body makes – almost to the point of ignoring everything but the instructions on the script (or app, or podcast or similar). That is how is supposed to be done.

What we do….

I will tell my Husband I want kink time, maybe directly, maybe by being bratty. Either way, it’s ending up in bondage, impact play, role play or some other kink. More often than not, impact and sensation play. Instead of laying on my back on a yoga mat pondering why my leg hurts, I’ll be laying front side down on my bed, knowing exactly why I am feeling that. The script is my master’s voice “well done Wife”, the gentle caress before a spank, the whispers near my ear to check I’m listening. The firm grip on my wedding hand to remind me I’m loved.

My normal vanilla stresses are pushed aside whilst he’s in charge of my body and mind. For all I care there could be a hurricane outside, I wouldn’t hear. He makes me laugh, wriggle, talk, cry, smile and so much more.

I wish I could recommend kink to the mindful group, but I suspect I’d be considered a freak. I mean, why would a seemingly strong woman WANT her Husband to hit her? Believe it or not, it’s about controlling my own life, not being controlled by him, which is often the assumption if folk ask why I wear this chain around my neck, this padlocked collar. I am going to suffer everyday, the exhaustion, all over pain and everything else that goes with my illness wether or not I want to. Yet when he spanks me, or runs a pinwheel across my skin, that is the only part of my body I feel.

Obviously, I am not saying kink cures illnesses, it so doesn’t. But when I’m in his loving hands, my normal pain melts. Just us in the room, just us in the universe, and nothing else matters.

The newest impact toy

When I said I didn’t like canes, I was wrong. I didn’t like how they had been misused on me in the past, it was a mental block I had to get past.

Well a few weeks ago I mentioned how much I love impact toys, and that I like chains whilst at a munch and somehow the conversation got intetesting. One of the men is a blacksmith… his ears perked up at some of my ideas. Well at the next munch he presented me with the product my mind had created.

A custom made cane, just for me!
A custom made cane, just for me!

Husband has bent it a bit as you can see, but this is a prototype. This has potential I must say, the marks it leaves are hard to hide that’s for sure.

 

My only problem…. finding reasons to get punished for.

Am I offering or demanding?

I thought I was offering myself to you, Husband. I came downstairs in a sheer lace nightie, so short my white lace pants were on show. I was all cuffed and I had even put a lead on.

I went in to the kitchen, chains rattling as I walked. I washed up, in full view of nosey neighbours and I made you a cuppa, because, well, we are British and I wasn’t planning on sleeping soon.

As I bent down, I gave him the cuppa and point out I’m HIS. Implying strongly I want to be used. He looks at me and says “Are you asking or demanding?” Then he carries on reading! Ouch! It was an offer, almost naked – just enough fabric so I don’t shiver but all the access still. Collar, wrist and ankle cuffs all with D loops to tie me or drag me easily. I think even a vanilla bloke with a pulse would go for that kind of offer from their partner.

I offered myself to you, without conditions or exclusions, my body and mind placed in your hands Husband. Yes, okay, I wanted fucking eventually, but my main gift was being a willing victim. A bit over willing.

Without warning a few minutes later you say “I’m going upstairs. When I come back I expect you to have moved the furniture“. We have a leather foot stool, it’s rather large and it’s our spanking bench hidden in plain sight. I turn on a Motorhead CD to disguise noise a teeny bit and to make a nice mood.
“Now to see how much you trust me Wife” he says as he is in the last few steps down stairs. As he walks I recognise a few things, rope, floggers and the big blindfold. “KNEEL!

Where Dear, isn’t not a clear instruction?” He didn’t seem mega impressed, and I was directed to my knees at the bench. The blindfold was tied on, rather fucking tightly too. Face down in the leather, I feel rope pass my wrists, he runs rope between my ankles and wrists, using the cuffs, this prevents me from full movement but still keeps me down.

Several toys struck my arse, and his hands. Spanking me with spiked gloves and then massaging me with the vamp gloves I crafted for him. I’m not sure wether to scream safe words all over the place or just cum hard. I’m guessing I chose the later as I kind of spaced out in happy pain, and bit of almost primal sighs and noises. I was genuinely dribbling into the leather… I’ve no idea how long I was face down but I know there was blood. Gawd I love it when I feel tiny drips of blood roll across my hot flesh.

He pulls my ropes to make me stand, “follow me Wife” the ropes are still on my wrists and he escorts me to the stairs. He says “open your mouth” and makes me carry my pants in my mouth. I’m still totally blind and follow him up the steps… I’m trying to count my steps so I don’t fall or rebreak any bones in my feet. He kindly informs me when I’m on the last step though. Into the bedroom we go. “Lie down” so I lie diagonally across the bed “WIFE! You know that is wrong” so I mumble a bit and lay in the centre of our bed, head on the pillows, face side up. The ropes get removed but I’m not allowed to touch him yet.

He kissed me and his wandering hands send me into a few orgasms. Infact he plays so damn well the duvet becomes wet. Holding me in a big, full body shaking orgasm for what felt like hours. I desperately want fucking, hard.

Husband says “if you want fucking, pick a hole” so I flip around and go down on him. My stomach is against his, and I’m moving my whole body up and down on him not just moving my head. I really want his hands inside me, or his face. The idea of his fist going inside me was winding me up, getting more than a bit carried away I stretch his balls and bite his penis. I drop hints, I push down harder if fingers went inside, but the swine just wouldn’t finish me off like that. Instead I’m fingered up the pussy and arse. I swallow for him and we fall asleep in each others arms.

Still the question lingered, am a demanding or offering?

I don’t do canes

Canes are a hard limit of mine, the look and feel of them gives me flashbacks and triggers panic in me.

However I felt my sadist was missing out. I decided I should make him a cane. I took a branch from one of our fruit trees (morelo cherry) and I spent a couple of hours whittling it away with a Stanley knife. All the bark is gone and the bumps where new branches jutted out are now smoother. The surface is not utterly smooth, but it is now safe. Along the “cane” you can see darker bits of wood grain that have been sliced into.

Cane
The branch itself was not straight and perfect, but the bends and kinks add to the pain. It has a gradual curve along the branch which makes it good for flicking too.

I presented it to him as he got in from work and I almost regretted giving him a new toy. I was shrieking. I had tears in my eyes and was tempted to safe word, then I caught a glimpse of his face. His face had a massive grin and was clearly loving it. A few more strikes and he rolls me over in a dominant manner and passionately kisses me. I feel safe, warm, protected and loved.

No words were needed but he let’s me know he’s proud of me. I melt in his arms, feeling utter love. He is my Top, my sadist, my Husband, but he’s also my safe place. I’m learning to trust him as much as I love him.

What a way to wake up

This morning we were supposed to wake up reasonably early but I was sleepy. I didn’t want to wake up. I was not waking up. Husband shuts the bedroom door and grabs a few toys, my eyes slightly open and I realise his intentions. I smirk in a cheeky way, which basically means “go on then”. 

I as a bit blurry and can’t really remember what happened first, but first thing I was being flogged. A nice gentle (almost tickling) flog. He didn’t stay gentle for long though. The wooden spoon, a spatula, the riding crop, a looped rope flogger, the jute rope flogger, bare handed spanking and who knows what else get used on me. Mainly my back and shoulders, but also my arse and legs for a short while. 

Whilst the crop was slapping on my skin it was hurting but it was a lovely pain. I wanted to tell him to hit me harder, but I didn’t want to speak. I was very happy, in honesty I was having a weak orgasm from the crack of pain. The noise, the feeling… I’m going to have bruises but I’m past caring. I am pretty much begging with my body language, despite being non verbal right now.  I want him.

I start talking, but only to be demanding. I want fisting, I pretty much need that release, I am too wound up. Sex alone ain’t going to cut it, I need more. He does as he’s told, even though people think he’s the dominant. I get him where I want him, cold lube on his arm and I am having fun. It’s my period, so things are a bit more intimate. I lose control, albeit not completely, he is my boss right now. It feels like only a few minutes to me, but I lose all sense of time when excited, then he orders me to move to my knees. If I drop his hand as I struggle to flip my body over he will stop, utter denial. Being left like this IS torture. 

I move slowly and carefully, clenching every muscle I can to keep hold of him. Success, I’m proud of myself, but no chance to celebrate. Barely chance to breath in fact as he rewards my efforts with pretty vicious thrusting. I’m on my knees, face down in our pillows, my hands are down just in front of my head. For a few seconds I wish he would be gentle, but then the euphoric feeling hits and that idea is gone. I’m in sexual heaven, and my fingers are scratching down our leather headboard. I cannot focus on anything, all I can do is scream. He spanks my arse with his bare hand, and my hand wanders to my crotch. I tough myself as he fists me, I’m screaming in pleasure but I want to lose control. 

Husband lets me fondle myself for a short time and then grabs me by my collar, gently at first. Then he pulls harder, he disrupts my breathing and time feels like it is slowing down. The pressure in my lungs, the delightful weakness throughout my body after a long and sustained orgasm, then the dizzy feeling from oxygen deprevation kicks in. Just at the right time he released my collar, I breath deeply and scream in delight.

It wasn’t negative screaming, I’m not worried, I was just very in the moment. He could hurt me badly, in this state I am pretty vulnerable, but I trust him completely, I’ve no need to be afraid. I know that if I shout a safe word he will stop immediately. Trust allows for some wonderful sex that’s for sure. 

When he decides I’ve had enough he pulls his arm from inside me and starts scratching my back with metal claws. My blood is on his hands. It feels like he wrote his initials on my back before going for a more wavy random scratching style. I love the feeling of claws – like little knives moved with care all over my body. They are cold metal but cause heat on my skin when he’s done. They aren’t actually super sharp, if used right they feel almost blunt, but if they are pulled across your flesh fast enough they feel delightfully sharp. He moves down and also scratches my arse and legs, in a more sensual way, tickling almost, he rolls me over. I’m now on my back. Husband is sucking then slapping my tits, it’s hurting but I am laughing, I enjoy playtime pain. He even slaps my face. 

I plead for sex, I am half expecting to be forced to beg, I am desperate to feel him inside me, for him to cum inside me. Missionary position – yes okay, it sounds dull but it so was not boring. It was loving, and close, and sweaty, the perfect fuck. But he doesn’t stay – he pulls out and says I should get on my knees. Doggy now, this I like a lot. He again grabs me by my collar, moving me into the position that causes the deepest penetration. Pulling hard, this sends me into another orgasm.

Eventually we stop playing and just hug. I’m not sure how long we hugged, but then we had a shower together to wash away the blood, sweat and spunk. We get dressed ready for our vanilla day. Which today was going to a rugby match with friends. Back to boring….