Mar 262015

“Ooohhh man, I look hot!” I had just gotten done getting laced up in my corset, and while I couldn’t breath, I actually had BOOBS for once. I, of course, considered this a fair trade off. I was out on a mission that night. There had been a man I’d been dancing around with and I was determined that he was coming home with me finally; I’m not famous for my patience.

This wasn’t my first corset, but I have to say it was the best one I’d ever owned. I have an hourglass figure to begin with, so my body was made for them. All dolled up, I was ready to head out.

The thing about corsets, especially those with steel boning, is that you can’t actually DO anything in them. Trying to sit and drive a car is a comical mixture of oxygen depravation, and choking on your newfound boobs. The hour drive to the party was uncomfortable to say the least. I won’t bore you with the party details I barely remember, but I can tell you my mission was a success!

Once I got my conquest home, I went into full sex kitten mode. One of my go to moves is kneeling at his feet and performing oral. There’s something powerful in the submission of the pose coupled with the ultimate power of having him in your mouth. My skirt had been discarded quickly upon our arrival at my home, so now it was just pretty lace boy shorts, and the corset. The view down with the corset pushing my breasts up to be viewed in the background I knew only spurred him on to greater arousal.

He couldn’t take my ministrations for long before he was pulling me to my feet and shoving my face into the bed. His hands were all over my body, almost tearing at my clothes in their haste and excitement. My panties came down my legs quickly and his fingers raced to my laces…

And stayed there. My roommate, being a cis male, is no expert in dressing women. However, he was the perfect candidate to help me get ready that night because I knew he could do my laces up tight. So with blind, verbal, instruction he had been the one to get me in my sexy outfit. Apparently his lacing skills are not matched with tying skills because the thing was knotted. Like, when you throw a bunch of delicate necklace chains in a jewelry box, knotted.

Time always seems to slow down in your head when you’re in a panic, but I can assure you that a real time of at least 3 minutes passed in the fruitless effort to get me unlaced. That’s a long time when you want nothing more than to be having hot, steamy, slightly awkward, first time sex with someone. He finally gave up the effort and spun me around.

That’s when we discovered that my roommate had done such a good job at lacing me that there just wasn’t any room to give to undo the hooks in the front. I was being squished around like grapes to wine to no avail. At this point I was so mortified my internal clock had combusted and I haven’t a clue how much time actually transpired, but it felt like eons. It’s a good thing I look good in red because my cheeks were on FIRE.

A quick inquiry as to scissors in my room had to be answered in the negative. The frustration in the room was just as palpable as the arousal of minutes before. In a somewhat disproportionate tone to the situation at hand I finally yelled out “fuck it, leave it on!”, flung myself back around and waved my ass in the air like a white flag of surrender to distract him from my clothing malfunction.

Luckily, my ass worked, it is quite large after all. The sex that followed wasn’t terribly noteworthy if I’m honest. At this point we both almost just wanted it over with. While we remained friends after the incident, neither of us made any moves to attempt any more sex with the other. The failure of the first time was too much to overcome. I did however learn a valuable lesson from the incident, and now keep paramedic sheers in my nightstand, which luckily I have never had occasion to use.

Kink of the Week

 Posted by at 1:49 pm
Mar 242015

WTH is she thinking?!

1. You have been asked to organize a sex & kink weekend. Will you be more of a “hands-on” person or more of an “ideas” person?

I could easily do both roles, though I’m sure my husband would prefer I be more of an “ideas” person – I would stay pretty busy no matter the role as I dive into things fully. This weekend my play card looks pretty full, and I’m hoping to fit him in (and if he orders it of course I will). Last weekend, and even this upcoming weekend, are kink filled and I have to say I’m always in awe of the planners (and a bit grateful I am not one). 

2. Assuming you are the hands-on type at this weekend sex romp, and you’ve entered a tent to ‘play’ with a male/female couple. Would you like to be given clear instructions before you begin to ‘play’ or do you prefer to be given the general idea of the task and work it out your own way.

I want instructions without being scripted. I want input. I want limits and boundaries, but this scenario isn’t anytime in my future – it doesn’t include my husband.

3. True or False. “During sex, I like to hear and accept feedback.”

Absolutely yes, true! Feedback is sexy!

4. What are you wearing right now?

Pajamas – the minute I got home from work I changed into pajamas.

5. I show loyalty to my lover by ________ .

Running things by him. And reassuring him that he is my first priority (okay, maybe second to my kids). 

6. Do you always have to argue?

Yes, it’s a natural occurrence to me if you were to ask my husband (and then he would turn around and say that we never argue – which is mostly true). That being said, people tell me I’m easy to get along with, so I can’t be that combative. I do not shy away from standing up for my beliefs, however. 

Bonus: Pick up the closest book to you, open it to page 55. The first line on that page reads: ________ .

“As a relative outsider with regard to American society, I suspected that the attitudes I saw in this meeting reflected deeper cultural assumption.” Mating in Captivity

How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link totmituesdayblog from your website!

Happy TMI Tuesday!

 Posted by at 4:38 pm
Mar 232015

According to Wikipedia: Exhibitionism is the act of exposing in a public or semi-public context those parts of one’s body that are not normally exposed – for example, the breasts, genitals or buttocks. The practice may arise from a desire or compulsion to expose themselves in such a manner to groups of friends or acquaintances, or to strangers for their amusement or sexual satisfaction or to shock the bystander.

I see them watching me, though they are out of focus to me – blurred edges and low background noise, he is my clear vision… and the rope.

Between the rope and him, they take turns being my focus, truly. The cold fabric brushing across my skin – his warm arms coming around, a sharp tug to keep my attention on the moment -a firm word that reminds me that I am his to do with as he wishes, stroking up my skin – the suddenness of a slap on skin brushed sensitive, snaking between my thighs – fingers subtly dipping between my lips for brief pleasure, teasingly taunt across my nipples – and then painfully pinched, even rope threatening across my throat for just the briefest moment as my head is manipulated for a passionate kiss.

The people watching are barely there, at the edge of my conscious when I have so many other pressing things to hold me spellbound. But I know they are there, watching.

I sense them leaning in or sitting more upright when I first come off the floor in a suspension, perhaps to get a better look at the ties – for those whose interest lays in the rope, perhaps to see if I am secure and nothing pulled the wrong way – for those whose purpose is safety, perhaps to those who have never seen a suspension – for those whose are new and marveling at possibilities, perhaps to those who know how the rope feels as it bites into flesh and holds the weight – for those who also share the experience, perhaps to find beauty in the art form – for those whose eyes appreciate such things, perhaps to those perving a naked body – now raised to a more appreciative viewpoint.

And then when he spins me (as he most often does), when he transitions me for one position to another, there tends to a be a low murmur of voices as conversations on technique, on fun, on dizzying or stability experiences occurs. This is barely penetrated by me, as I am now up and flying, as I am being manipulated and completely not in control of what occurs to me, as I am bound and wholly at his mercy in the air. As always, he shares the spotlight – the rope is truly biting and gripping and settling around me, cocooning and safe even its own painful reassurance.

But when his cleverness comes, that’s when I hear the gasps or the conversations – briefly as I then zone the people watching me out entirely. But still, their noises perk my ears, my brain registers that they are aware of something that I am not…yet. They may see the knife, extra ropes, the nipple clamps, the vibrator before I do. My vantage point is what he wills; I do not control even that. The predicaments that he puts me in, that make me damn myself with movement unless I do exactly as he sets me up to do:

clamps tugging at my nipples if I move my head – the rope ties hair and nipple clamps together – him asking so softly for a kiss until I forget myself and lean to obey, only to be brought up short by the bite at my nipples;

rope tied in a knot at my clit and strung tight so that if I need to adjust slightly to be more comfortable I feel it sharply pressing into my sensitive nub;

my ankles or my wrists strung in such a way that I maintain a rigid position or adjust to a painful reminder of the rope to keep maintaining my stance;

a buzzing between my legs that torments not just the sensitive exposed intimate zones of me, but also reverberate up and down the rope traveling across the rest of my skin.

They watch me, they chuckle at his cleverness or wickedness, they ponder what I will do next to escape one sensation to find myself in another, they rejoice or cringe at the pain or sensation that is brought upon me.

I am a marionette truly up in strings and I move exactly as he wills it, as the rope commands it.

He (and the rope) is the reason I am up here naked to begin with. I do not consider myself an exhibitionist, though nudity has never affected me – to either see it or be seen, though someone once suggested that I am an exhibitionist. I am unhampered by clothes because he cannot be bothered with the inconvenience of working around fabric – because the rope prefers bare skin. Because after being seen, there may be a conversation with another such as he and he may get new ideas, may learn from or teach another. For myself, I am always willing and eager to be seen because I want the experience.

What I’ve learned is that there is such a contrast of feelings about being exposed in this way; it makes me feel both vulnerable to be viewed, to have others watching me and quietly discussing, to be put on as a show, to be an object at times and a silly little human trying to still have some semblance of control when it is obvious I have none; and then there is strength in the surrender of control, in the acceptance of the bite and the wrappings of the rope, of the defiance in the predicament, of the thoughts streaming through my head of what I can do next, what I can manipulate in such a tiny space that is completely unnatural to my normal physical environment. I don’t get this duality of feelings in the safety of my home.

In my love for him, for the rope he binds me in, I find strength while leaving myself so vulnerable. It is freeing.

I am not sure that they ever notice that – but I see myself watching for it in others when I am the spectator of another’s scene.

Wicked Wednesday

 Posted by at 3:36 pm
Mar 192015
macro 006 compressed

Taken for a macro, but wasn’t quite close enough to be considered as such.



HNT is back (briefly). Originally as an idea on March 19th to say “fuck you” to Blogger and the threatening censorship days later, now it’s more of a victory celebration.

Here was our (first for HNT) contribution.

 Posted by at 7:22 am  Tagged with:
Mar 172015

Happy St. Patrick’s Day

pot of gold and rainbow_tmi
1. You found your pot o’ gold. How much is in the pot? What will you do with your gold?

The pot is endless, which is good because I have no specific plan in mind besides not worrying about my family’s livelihood but would also eventually want to make sure no one worried either.

2. Some things get better with age, have you? What specifically has gotten better?

I have definitely gotten a lot better with age, mostly because I am more comfortable with being who I really am and my desires. Sure, some things are not as good – right now I’m pretty stressed and don’t care about my fitness level and weight like I normally do (and it shows), and sometimes I find myself too busy to properly do the domestic stuff on the weekends, but overall, I’m happier and more confident.

3. Are you above average or below average?

Below average on height, common sense, domestic abilities, patience. Above average on intelligence, reading, sex drive, adventuresome spirit. 

I really dislike vague questions.

4. What was the last romantic act you did for someone? Did they appreciate it?

I made a list of 20+ reasons why I loved him. He was okay with it; I make him little love notes all the time, so he’s constantly positively reinforced on my reasons for loving him.

I’m not romantic much, he’s more the romantic. I do believe that showing appreciation and gratitude is important to do daily in my life, however. 

5. Think back to your very last argument, whose fault was it?

So easy: it’s always  him. He’ll even admit it 9 out of our 10 arguments. I don’t really argue much, unless I’m fairly confident I’m getting upset for a worthwhile reason.  Recently, he has so much on his mind that he forgets our conversations – a very frustrating fact for me, and goes against what we’ve previously agreed upon.

Bonus: I have an overactive imaginationThis makes me think the worst or have too high expectations, gives me insomnia, and come up with fantastical stories (which sadly I don’t take the time to write most of the time). 

I also would equally say that I have an overactive sex drive, as it drives me nuts at times and certainly makes me demanding of any sexual partner. 


How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!

Happy TMI Tuesday!

Mar 162015

Photo courtesy of Molly’s Daily Kiss

Welcome to Elust #68 -

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #69? Start with the rules, come back April 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

For our UK readers, we would like to make a special request that you take a moment and fill out this petition to repeal the new censorship laws.

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

A Misunderstanding With My Clitoris
BDSM Doesn’t Magically Fix Your Life
Discussing Consent, Culture, and What We Do

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Other people run. I fuck.
Frame by Frame

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
Bad Men and Why Perfectly Intelligent, Independent, Sane Women Fantasize About Them

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!


Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Erotica Challenge: The Euph-Off
Squirting: A Feminist Issue?
The Waaaambulance Race

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Sex and Depression – An Update
The Dating Game
Pussy Whispering
“Fuck You” Is the Best Revenge
Interviews & flirting

Erotic Non-Fiction

Doing As I’m Told
Possibilities to ponder
Sign Language
Today I’m Going to Share a Sad Story
Whispering To Him
Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 37

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

One Sadist’s Consent
Home Improvements
NSKQ 48: Cumming Kills the Party
The Fun, The Serious & the In Between in BDSM
Starting to feel human and kinky again
Do what you say you will do


Flattery – A Lusty Limerick

Erotic Fiction

happy birthday
The Red Shoes
The Fuck Feast Fantasy
“Not Paid to Love You”
The belt

Writing About Writing

Resist the Erotic Euphemism
Lessons From Writing A Threesome
The Semantics of Sex
Sardax Breathes Life Into Venus in Furs




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Mar 152015



I have an amazing friend who is very into encasements and wrappings. I didn’t have any interest in these things until him, but to hear him talk about his love and passion for these kinks encouraged my curiosity – and I am immensely curious about most things.

So, when he showed me this gorgeous purple vet wrap he had bought, and I love purple, I thought I should approach him and negotiate a wrapping. We discussed how far I wanted to go, what to wear, and if I would be standing or laying, or a combination of both. And then my husband – because the friend is close to both of us – got involved, so I wasn’t wearing anything other panties and I was standing so that anyone who wanted to watch had a good view. I also think they planned for him to be involved a bit more – something I discovered later.

My husband decided to wrap rope into a simple chest harness and tie me to a suspension point to keep me safely upright while I was being wrapped – which was hugely comforting once my legs began to get wrapped. My friend did a fantastic job of checking in with me, notifying me of all the steps and the reasons behind them, and complimenting me as we went along. He made the entire experience so much fun and provided so much feedback that I wasn’t concerned during the entire process.

He wrapped my torso first with my arms raised above me and it just felt like a tight dress around me. Friends watching commented how it looked like a sexy dress. Next, he went to my fingers and arms, asking me to spread my fingers a bit, and once around those limbs I put down my arms and he wrapped them to my torso. Once I was wrapped, the wrapping tightened quite a bit around my fingers. He wrapped up to neck level, then the legs, putting a bit of padding between my ankles (to prevent the ankle bones from rubbing each other).

He asked if I wanted to go further, and I indicated I was quite comfortable so he talked me through as he began wrapping my neck and head – leaving a partially open face. The neck and head wrappings were in black and someone commented that I looked like a nun.

Apparently, me being quite comfortable wasn’t acceptable to one audience member as my husband approached us and asked our friend something, and suddenly he knelt in front of me to cut a slit at pelvis area. He inserted our small vibrator that we use for suspensions and turned it on low. My friend remarked how he could feel it reverberating through the wraps to where he was working.

The wrappings suddenly felt tighter even as I became more aware of the vibrations at my clit. I heard the background noise of the people commenting and my friend’s laughter. After a few minutes, he turned it on high and then taped the vibrator up.

I couldn’t move…at all. And while I believe I interacted when spoken to, I was only aware of the heat around my body, the comforting pressure of the wraps, and the vibrations. My face was towards the people and yet they didn’t exist after a certain point. I was certainly the center of my focus, with my husband and my friend orbiting around from time to time. At one point I was asked if I wanted to lay down, to which I did as the rope was beginning to support me from time to time. They both held me until my husband scooped me into his arms and then laid me down, straddling my body. He manipulated the vibrator as much as he could through the wraps and pinched and tweaked my nipples through the wrap (how the hell did he know how to find them?) until I climaxed.

By that point, I had been wrapped for over an hour. One hand was tight inside the wrap, and I was so hot and sweaty. I requested to be let out (the vibrator portion was peeled,turned off, and removed) and my friend and husband set about to cutting me out – one person on arms and the other started at my ankles and cut up. The minute the last of the wrap was cut going directly up my body, the wrapping opened up around me – like a cocoon being peeled back, and the air hit my damp skin. It was refreshing; it was awakening all the skin on the surface of my body and making me aware of  a nearby fan circulating the air to caress me softly.

I had lost track of the time and was surprised to hear that I had been wrapped as long as I had been – it felt like a short moment of time and when I requested to be let out I felt had bad that it was so much work that I was requesting out of.

The wrapping kept my body’s form and was a spongy form that I could look at the rest of the night and smile. I enjoyed being wrapped but it was crucial that I trusted the person binding me in such a restricting way and that he had a lot of experience, to make the session as positive as it was.  I couldn’t imagine doing this with many people.


Wicked Wednesday

 Posted by at 7:25 am
Mar 132015

A person near us: “(says my name, makes a comment)”

I turn my head towards them, respond happily with a comment. Feel the yank of rope roughly, to where I’m almost off balance and his muttered but harsh command to stay put. I feel deflated, I feel like I disappointed him, and I try to stay very still and do exactly what he wants…for all of a couple of minutes, until I get distracted and he gets angry again.

Yep, this is my rope scene…it’s a work in progress, and a work of patience that neither of us have quite mastered.


A rare moment of connection between the two of us; I am aware of his breath by my ear, his fingers caressing me as the rope wraps around, his body heat behind me, and gladly surrender myself to him.

*This is a scenario only with rope suspensions.

Before the scene even begins, I can’t help smiling, and I feel restless. I begin to bounce and move about, and when he grabs the rope bag and begins to get organized, I start stretching. Even that’s hard for me, it’s too slow and requires a bit of focus.

And then I am in front of him. He always wants me to stand as he wraps, which considering I prefer to have my waist tied first as it’s the easiest to stay in, makes sense. But as the rope and his arms see-saw around my limbs, I try to help…and always get scolded. “Stop helping, I will put you where I want you,” he’ll grit out. Or I’ll twist unknowingly as I look at what he’s doing. That action gets me a lecture on staying put, or “the rope is going to hit you in the face. Turn away,”.

Sigh, clearly I’ve heard the lectures enough.

And I like people, so when they talk to me, I talk back. And apparently move to look at them. My poor partner, such a lesson in patience. No wonder I occasionally get the sting of the rope as he ties – it’s a sign he’s unhappy with me.

I really feel like I would be more focus if he was connected or sensual during rope. This is apparently a fact that only the two of us are aware of. Everyone comments on our connection, our energy, and how beautiful it is to witness. I’m glad they feel this way, because we aren’t acting, and we sure as hell don’t feel connected. Maybe it’s because as much as he becomes harsh, I become playful, and we genuinely love each other -even through the entire frustration of tying. This is even when we suspended privately, so it’s not the people around us.

I have actually stated that if the connection doesn’t start happening, I’m done with suspensions (with him anyhow. If I’m just going to be a body being tied, I would prefer that level of distance be from someone else). (And before I hear any topping from the bottom comments, I am expressing an emotional need with him, something well within my rights.) I feel like I could be any rope bottom standing in front of him, and we love each other, so that doesn’t settle well with me. At first, I was understanding – he needed to be analytical and mechanical about where to safely put the rope around nerve endings, joints, muscles. I appreciated his focus on just that and understand his overprotective nature towards me.

But he’s better than that now, and I want my lover. He’s working on it, he understands where I’m coming from and also wants the same thing.

For myself, I watch videos and see scenes where the bottoms shut their eyes, and it seems as if they’re blissed out right away. Are they acting? Are they genuinely in the headspace that easily that quickly? For myself, the headspace doesn’t come easily or quickly. Maybe I should shut my eyes and fake it until I make it. Maybe I should immerse myself in a fantastic fantasy and daydream while the rope and his hands move across my skin. Maybe I should meditate and focus on the actual act of the rope and him. But that feels fake. I want to watch his expressions, to see him thinking, to watch his hands and rope glide across me, to watch the play of muscles, the quickness of fingers hooking, looping, moving. That’s hot.

And it doesn’t take much to get me focused, now that he’s trying to move away from the desensitized tying-a-body and becoming more aware he’s tying his-lover’s-body. He kisses me, breathes on my neck, tugs on my nipple, spanks me, as he works around me and suddenly I am his, and the world starts to fade. As soon as he’s consistent with those actions, I am sure I will stay focused on just him and feel that he is in the moment with me.

But for now, we sure don’t look like what I’ve seen with rope scenes, and I want that connection I feel between others. He could be rough and a cruel taskmaster, he could sensual and loving, or anywhere in between, but I want us to be fully together in this activity. I grow tired of waiting for the connection; I actively searched for scenes and pointed out what I wanted (their connection) as we watched (he’s visual).

Just the thought of our new commitment to come together while suspending makes me all giddy and restless. I can’t help smiling and bouncing…

**I wrote this December 23rd, and with the advice of a great friend of ours, we have made vast improvements on being connected – a combination of sensual loving and sadistic glee. 

 Posted by at 8:37 am