BDSM Diary

CHRISTINE

This is the story of my very first real BDSM Dominant/Submissive relationship. Like so many of the women I have played with, Christine was married, so there was plenty of ducking and diving to be done. I think it’s self explanatory why more women than you might think seek out BDSM style escapes, purely because that’s what it is, an escape. And just like me many women, and men, live their lives hiding from their true sexual core. In my opinion it takes a lot of courage for submissive women in particular to follow their hearts and truly allow themselves to succumb to and embrace their sexual core. After all this is you allowing a strange man to tie you to his bed, and hit you with whips. Quite a vulnerable state!

I met Christine through ‘Senior BDSM’ a site chronically populated by bots and scammers. There are very few real people on it, especially females. Sex with a bot could, possibly, be fun. But lube is bad enough, do you really want to spend your life smelling of WD40?

Christine was one of the rare humans to be found on ‘Senior BDSM’ and yes, I know what you’re thinking, was this a site that catered exclusively for wrinkly crinkly perverts with incontinence issues? The answer is ‘probably’ Personally though I’m okay at the moment, I don’t suffer from any dribble dramas, and my manhood, despite the advancing years can still reach the stiffness of a spinnaker in a brisk south-westerly.

Our first meeting was at a Cafe Nero. Christine, like a good number of submissives I’ve played with, was thirty years younger than me. You see, girls love their Daddies. It’s a massive kink for women, but I think it’s borne from a deep need to feel connection to an older male figure that they feel they can trust. In fact, just like a Daddy except that it’s played out in a sexual theatre. From my experience there is absolutely nothing incestuous about it. There is a vast chasm between sexualised fantasy and what people might call reality. I used to think of Rebecca’s sleazy BDSM double life, but now I see it much differently. Rebecca had the courage to lead a WHOLE life, unencumbered by the chains of moral restraint (puns, once more, intended)

Christine had quite a few fetishes. I found some of them amusing, but always respected her kinks. She got wildly turned on watching men drive. Christine would sit on my passenger seat, a damp patch growing with alarming speed, while writhing furiously. Christine was desperate to grope me and suck me while I drove but Daddy always said no. A good Daddy knows how exciting denial can be for both parties, and anyway I didn’t fancy having to explain any mishaps to the police.

Imagine the scene. A crash. Christine is knocked unconscious with her mouth round my cock. Lockjaw sets in and she’s now out cold gripping my willy with the force of a DIY enthusiasts vice clamp. Not something that reads well on your criminal record.

Christine also loved water sports. For the uninitiated this is not paddle boarding, surfing or kayaking. In BDSM water sports are for people who gain sexual pleasure from emptying their bladder on others, or having bladders emptied on them. Not my thing, but Christine had this fetish realised elsewhere. She also liked to wash me after sex, with a sponge, in the bath. This I could easily tolerate.

But those kinks were add-ons. More than anything else Christine loved to be physically and mentally dominated. I trained her how to deep throat while calling her by the names she loved most. Bitch, slut, pervert – things like that. Christine loved to have her breath restricted by a cock embedded deep in her oesophagus. She would touch her own throat so she could feel the head of my penis, literally, tickling her tonsils. Deep throating while watching porn was something we both enjoyed and many a happy orgasm was had by those on and off the screen.

Being restrained was something else Christine craved. Chains, ropes, duct tape, handcuffs, basically anything that did the job. While tied down, ass up or face up, Christine loved to be beaten, and hard. She had a remarkable pain threshold and, using my faithful Spanish Leather belt, a tawse (a beastly instrument of torture once used in Scottish schools to punish errant children) and a variety of crops, canes and floggers, I left spectacular marks, like chemtrails, all over her body. She took everything I gave her without complaint.

In fact the harder I hit her the more often she came, in fact the pain levels seemed to equate to the intensity of her orgasms. As Christine learned more about herself she discovered that she also loved nipple and pussy clamps and pussy whipping. I was more than happy to accommodate Christine in any way I could. It was massively erotic for both of us.

We were play mates for a while, but, as is sometimes the case, the initial potent chemistry cooled quite quickly. Why? Who knows. It’s a strange one. Sometimes there’s that explosiveness at the start which fades fast and sometimes the lust and intensity grows over time as play mates build closer emotional bonds. I prefer the latter.

We are still buddies and text often. Christine. A fantastic human being. Puts other people’s feelings first, and she’s kinky as fuck.