The Fuck-Drunk Chronicles

When I first dabbled in BDSM I did so as Domme.  It seemed a good fit for me; in most areas of my life I ooze confidence and I’m happy to play mind games with people (I can be extremely manipulative when the mood takes me).  Since my last relationship had ended a decade earlier, and ended badly enough to necessitate a trip to A&E, I was extremely wary of being in a position of vulnerability with a man, so Domme seemed the perfect way to go. As so often happens, reality proved me one hundred percent mistaken.  I was a shit Domme.  A truly awful, “what the hell are you doing?” Domme.  The final metaphorical straw was a session with one of my subs who wanted me to pinch his nipples and ended up screaming at me to pinch them harder.  Harder!  Make me feel it bitch!  Not really appropriate from a sub to his Domme but I hadn’t the heart to punish him because he made a good point – I really was being far too hesitant. I had no trouble find...

Recently I mentioned figging on an online forum, and I have been besieged by questions about it.   The context of my mentioning it was a question posed asking what I’d found unexpectedly enjoyable.   I never expected to enjoy figging but in reality I loved it. If you Google figging it sounds like the least enjoyable experience imaginable: “Figging is the practice of inserting a piece of skinned ginger root into the human anus or the vagina in order to generate an acute burning sensation.   Historically this was a method of punishment, but has since been adopted as a practice of BDSM”, Wikipedia.   Doesn’t sound all that enjoyable I guess. C was only on Alt occasionally, but we happened to meet on IM and we got chatting not long after I’d joined.   I was still exploring but was ready for instruction, and I liked the security of phone call/IM play – if I felt uncomfortable with anything it would be the work of an instant to hang up or exit the chat. We’d sp...

On Sunday I was zombied by three men.  Three, in one day.  I'm pretty sure that's a record, although Norris McWhirter isn't so confident.  One said he'd been away with work, one compounded the zombieing by claiming not to have said something incredibly crass last time we spoke, and the third has offered no explanation for why it took him three whole months to message me again in spite of ghosting me while I was preparing to meet him. Is there currently a full moon? Have I become zombie-bait? I know I like to consider my brain more than averagely useful but I'm fairly certain it is no larger or more juicy than any others, so why is my milkshake suddenly bringing all the zombies to the yard?   Playing now in my WhatsApp: the Wanking Dead.

Say only what is necessary and in few words. Epictetus I have been on many sites over the last decade, from traditional dating sites to BDSM and fetish sites, hookup sites to relationship sites.  For a variety of reasons I currently find myself on a swinging site.  It could be great, but I’ve been on there several months and it’s been largely just frustrating.  I’ve been stood up more in the last few months than in the entire rest of my life, I’ve been blocked en route to a meet on more than one occasion, I’ve been abused in the most vile of terms and have found myself branded a time-waster and a fake for not being able to meet on a weekday afternoon (has nobody else ever held a 9 to 5 job?). As a single woman on a swinging site it’s widely believed that the cards are stacked entirely in my favour and I need only crook my finger to have a string of handsome, witty, intelligent, urbane beaux lining up to be the recipient of my favours.  If only! Dotted ...

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I have long been drawn to words over images.  I like to play with words, to find the word exactly suited to the situation.  I can (and frequently do) masturbate to porn, but my preferred medium tends to be kindle smut.  I had quite an awakening in my adolescence to Tiger Eyes by Judy Blume, yet sex on TV left me slightly cold. It was no surprise that when I started to dabble in BDSM I would take my inspiration from sex stories.  The bigger surprise is that there was a place for stories on a BDSM hook-up site I used.  It was early days for me and I had no idea where my limits lay because I’d barely begun to explore.  I read story after story, left comments on those I’d enjoyed, skimmed over the poorly written, picking up ideas all the while.  Eventually all my commenting drew the attention of B. B was a very experienced Dom.  He opened the conversation in a non-threatening way, talking about some of the comments I’d left, before movin...

I’m not much for watching TV, but I watch so little of it that what I do watch tends to make quite an impression on me.  Years ago I watched an episode of CSI where a BBW convention and a dwarf convention were held at the same time.  They found a dwarf dead on the bed in a pool of ejaculate and dried sweat; turns out he’d taken a liking to a BBW, took her back to the hotel room, she’d gone on top and he’d been crushed.  What a way to go. Seemingly unrelated points follow, but I ask your indulgence. I’ve not had a relationship since the millennium. I have ongoing sexual arrangements, sometimes monogamous, sometimes not, but the most I will commit to is a friends with benefits scenario.  I’m always very clear on my limitations from the outset; I never promise more than I can deliver. Sometimes, though… ah, sometimes.  Sometimes I wonder whether I shouldn’t just grow up, settle down, have a proper relationship like a normal person.  What I have ...

“Let’s chat” the message said.  A fairly innocuous message on a far from innocuous BDSM hook-up site.  He was a Dom who seemed concerned that he was older than me, a pointless concern given that he was exactly the same age as my previous Dom.  I’d been around this particular kinky block before, had Doms (had subs, though the role of Domme didn’t sit well with me), but it had been over two years since my last session and I was hungry for use. An obedient subbie for once in my life, we chatted.  He told me about his time in Spain, his life in the UK, his history of relationships.  I told him sketchy details of my past, preferring to focus on my present.  I told him my insecurities, exposed my emotions to him.  He told me of the playroom he’d created in his home, the toys he’d bought and those he’d made.  We talked through the darkness until the early hours of the morning almost every night for weeks. I played with myself while he instruct...

Not every story is one of boundless bliss.  In my case most of my stories are more of sexual misadventure than they are of sexual triumph.  They’re remarkably amusing though, so I’ll share them as the mood takes me. This story starts “I was browsing Craigslist one night”, so you already know it’s not going to end well, however… get yourself comfortable.  It’s a long one (that’s what she said). So, I was browsing Craigslist one night and I stumbled across an advert that grabbed my attention.  The guy mentioned that it was incredibly difficult for him to meet anyone as he lived in a very insular community where movements were closely monitored.  I figured he was probably in jail, and I messaged him to find out. As it happens he wasn’t in jail.  He was a randy Canadian on the Isle of Man, which I suppose is close enough.  His name was N, he had an upcoming flight to Liverpool booked, and he wanted to meet up with someone who only had 5 toes per ...