Part one "Mr S"/ The euphoric difference between falling and flying!

Maybe it's time I wrote about Dave.
Maybe it's time to breathe in…
and breathe out….
and release the energy of my femdom journey. ….
Maybe,
just maybe,
the world will turn and we will all feel the energy that coincides with discovery.
The world will turn and we will all learn
how to be. …
Just be ourselves….
To be complete.

I use to run with the sun in my eyes, the wind against my face, feeling like I was embracing the world.
I was meekly running from what I'd known to be my world for more than half my life. With my heart bruised and path unknown, I was about to venture further than I had imagined possible.
Back to my roots.
Back to embracing a sexuality that burned to be once again lit.
A country housewife and mother that forge forth to the city to establish a life beyond what she had known and to seek out what would bring fire back to her belly and spirit back to her soul.
It had been a very long 2 years of celibacy and to say I was aching to discovered what another body felt like, was a mammoth understatement. I'd close my eyes and literally feel fingertips upon my skin, tracing the lines and curves of my shape….
Alas the catch cry … my body wasn't what it once was and it hadn't been explored by anyone but my husband for the past 25 years. The stress of my marriage breakdown was evident, a massive weight loss, tattered confidence and I was left with the shell of a frame I wasn't familiar with.
We are not the body that holds our soul, we are the spirit that drives both our minds and our journey. So I set about getting to know this unrecognizable image that reflected within a mirror and to gain control of the weight being stripped away alongside that of my identity. How does one find themselves in the midst of heartache, ill health and past demons. …… you stop long enough to acknowledge that you matter and without self discovery, every tomorrow will be a kaleidoscope of every yesterday.
The first challenge was to like my body from the inside out, physiological scars included. For myself, the daunting yet tantalizing need to be touched intimately again came with its own mind field of traumatic residuum. Sometimes we need visual reminders of what our minds are capable of, so it was time to adorn my skin with some ink. Subtle, private reminders that my fight to regain my sexuality had been won before and could be once again
‘Strength’ and ‘Courage’ became my solace.
Second step was to get acquainted with the foreign environment of a gym; the ideology was in fact fabulous, the actuality scared the daylights out of me.
Slowly I gained confidence with weights and ever so gradually worked my arse off and was rewarded with a visual that heightened my excitement of becoming a woman again. A woman beyond being a mum, a woman beyond being just someone's wife. Wasted muscles slowly regained strength and were finding their defined shape and in their own way, empowered my spirit to grasp a comfortable version of my femininity. Maybe I should explain; never have I seen myself as a feminine girl, teenager nor woman. I didn't see myself as soft and pretty: dresses, lace, heels, jewelry, lipstick and nails. .. none were for me. But now I was slowly realigning my association with what was to be my own unique femininity, it was my strength; mentally, emotionally and now physically.
I spent many an hour exploring my body and how it responded to touch, to different sensory experiences, what gave me butterflies, what set a fire burning in deepest part of my pussy, what brought forth it's wetness and to experience cumming again and again. The thought of another making me feel this way was intoxicating and so I set out to discover if I still had the effects on a cock that I once knew I innately had.
My sexual journey beyond my monogamous marriage began; tenderly at first but gained momentum and purpose within months. The toe that I gingerly dipped into the pool of prospective suitors very quickly became diving into the deep end head first. Always thinking, always conscious of my choices, always consensual, always safe.
I realized I didn't want to “think” , didn't want to make the decisions when it came to how I needed to feel physically. I had predominantly done the ”thinking” all of my marriage… it was a primal need now to just stop, stop planning and stop trying so goddamn hard.

Mr S was charming, older than I, in layman's terms a bit of a gym junkie in his physique….. oh and with the most devilish Scottish accent. He knew what he liked, an obliging, energetic, forthcoming woman that he could treat as a cockwhore… for his every sexual whim and the satisfaction of his 10inch cock. We agreed upon any limits and beyond that it was free game for him to command and I'd eagerly and gratefully obey.
Friday night playing was to commence.
Mr S was particular about how you presented yourself to him. So I was attentive and to some extent vigilant with my preparation getting ready for our “dates” . I love the anticipation and lead up to a play, always have, always will; music playing, a glass of chilled white wine, the lingering with choices of lingerie, washing hair, applying makeup, moisturizing freshly smooth skin and choice of outfit. So why now was I feeling trepidation? What was it about Mr S that heightened the eminence of getting his requisites specifically right upon arriving? He'd been concise but amorous when outlining his requirements, with his thick Scottish accent, it was as if I was listening to the prerequisite of a job interview.
Firstly I was to always be wearing a dress, one that was easily disrobed. He'd look favorably upon the hint of a subtle but evocative perfume upon opening the door and leaning in for a greeting kiss. Mr S stressed his desire for lingerie, yes the sets that accentuated a woman's shape; her curves, her voluptuous cleavage and her derrière. So I was uncompromising in making my choice, ensuring straps were untangled, lines were smooth, seams straight and there was an alluring of intrigue but a inconspicuous hint of sluttiness. Fighting to attaching suspender belt to thigh high stockings, swearing and cursing till finally achieving what might seem a manageable task, that was indeed more than effortless. God forbid looking in the mirror to realize the stocking seams weren't aligned with the suspender strap. ...aarrrrhhhhh here we go again. I had no desire to give Mr S any reason to think i was less than enthusiastic about pleasing him. The final two requests were a pair of heels and hair back. OK the heel thing was tricky, Mr S was already tinkering on my height and I was self-conscious of being taller than any date, but this was inevitable so I quickly readjusted my mindset. Now the hair style! Yes the style that gives hold to a ponytail for one to grasp, leverage to fuck deeper and to emphasize who's in charge. And yet I was in control and loved the euphoria that accompanied succumbing to such dominant play. The drive to his inconspicuous residence was filled with butterflies, anticipation and exhilaration. Thoughts racing through my mind, my body tingling with the prospect of seeing that devilish smile creep across Mr S face before hearing the chuckle of conviction upon him unleashing his prowess. Once inside you were welcomed into a stylish and impeccably presented bachelors quarters. His tastes were precise, classy yet understated, manly yet held a distinct warmth and charming demeanor.
A glass of wine over incidental, although intellectual conversation and our evening was commencing. Occasionally we'd share dinner, merely delivered from a close by restaurant but delicious and appreciated. Then kissing….
deep, strong kissing on both parts, the only battle of the wills that was to take place from that point onwards. I was to know my place and respect why I'd chosen to indulge in this realm of interlude. I longed to get on my knees and watch his partly flaccid cock spring forth as I unzipped his designer jeans. Never any underwear, just his manhood that he was very proud of and soon for me to discover, totally in control of. Something that would be his undoing when it come to this cockslut.
Even in his dominance and urgency Mr S had the adeptness to be attentive and respectful. He commanded attention to his engorged endowment, but never allowed you to take the lead with how you worshipped it's grandeur. A rush of excitement would travel from my auditory senses all the way to the targeted body part when being summons to attend to his glistening erect cock. My insatiable mouth, my hungry pussy, my manipulative hands. .. but alas never arse. (Oh how he'd quiver at that prospect! Knowing now what I've discovered of my undeniable love of anal play I could have begged for its use! But all things are discovered in due time. )
Some nights blindfolded, some nights hands tethered, some nights gagged. Each experience of his mastery heightening my awareness of my body and its cognizance to respond beyond my recollection of any sexual encounter. The more we played the more my hunger grew to take control of his orgasm, to tease, to edge his encroaching release and feed to my heart's content.
The more he could see and recognize my insatiable need for his cock, the more he relished in withholding that opportunity. I now wonder if his love and obsession of his own cock, was what denied myself of that euphoria….. he couldn't and wouldn't give up that control, that release in someone else's ‘hands ‘.
After many weeks my playtime with Mr S had come to fruition, I'd had my total release of mind and body, but now I needed my soul back.

I took a few months to regroup and double check the balance of my life. But my undying eb of what lay beneath the surface was distracting, was unleashing a hunger that needed fueling. My mind totally blown open and an insatiable desire to venture further, to embrace the differences that make us all so beautifully unique, to some, so goddamn irresistible and sexy. Never would I have envisaged what Dave would weave intricately into my world, seduce my body, join with my soul and reawaken my heart. Never would I have seen the beauty in his ‘kink ‘ that was about to totally consume my desires.
The beauty and femininity that had been born from my strength was the pinnacle of “Mistress” slowly being brought forth to fruition. At times a struggle alongside my nurturing side, but that would be part of the journey and discovery of a modern day “Femdom” partnership and alliance.
Soon I'll share my sissy boy with you, soon I'll let you into the inner world of our femdom journey and cuckolding encounters. Maybe you'll be privileged to feel the energy, feel the heat and passion that arose from pure need to just be. …
Just be oneself….
To be complete in the moment of truth.

But remember, just like time itself, nothing can stay the way it once was, nothing can be explored without change. …
Some accept change more readily than others….

And for some. …
Some command the need to control.
I am not one of these people.






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