Hey Big Spender
OK, now I’m at the height of naughty derring-do. I very rarely will buy extortionately priced clothing for obvious reasons. Underwear, I see no reason whatsoever in paying more than something-teen pounds for a pair of knickers. Bras, well, get over £25 and I’ll start fuming.
But, Agent Provocateur have a sale on. I have never bought anything from there because of the price tags, despite some beautiful, lust-inducing underwear collections. Look what I found:
Is this Maggie Gyllenhaal?
I couldn’t resist that bra…seriously, who could? So in 3-5 days I shall hopefully be the extremely chuffed owner of the lacy prettiness above. Not bad…in the sale, 50% off and in my size too! Alright, there’s the slight issue of paying…£42 for a bra…but it will be the last frivolous purchase for a while, honest.
Ahh who cares! I shall not feel guilty about this! I love it. Just hope it fits well…Lust is a just sin.
Cold Hands, Warm Heart
Enough was enough.
He’d come home after work. Now fed and watered and sitting in our living room, he was getting me hot under the collar simply by sitting still. After spending all of the day before and this day thinking about when he came home and what I would be doing to him, I couldn’t wait another second. It was time.
I thought I’d try and see if he would get the message by sidling up to him, feet tucked under my skirted legs and lightly kissing his neck, nibbling at his ear. My hand trailing over around to the other side and tickling his right ear. Everything about him was turning me on. He smelt all pheromone-y after the day and he always is yummy clean-shaven. I had hinted at the plans I had for him, the wicked smile on my face betraying any innocence about them.
Come on you, I’m taking you to bed, I said. Unsubtle, lacking allure and seduction maybe, but I needed him. Now. Taking him by the hand, I led him to our bedroom (I won’t be tiring of the thrill it gives me to say our bedroom for a while) and sat him on the bed. He could tell that that this evening he was going to be treated. Mistreated was more along the lines of my thoughts. I set to lighting the candles as he shifted position on the bed for comfort. Centre stage on the duvet, he would have to make the most of the softness of the sheets as soon he would be experiencing something a little more uncomfortable. He’d already taken off his t-shirt. Depriving me that pleasure. I love to undress him. I noted this and added it to his imaginary slate that needed ticking off.
Candles aflame, I came across from one side of the bed to the other, walking slowly, deliberately, my hands trailing across the bed frame, nails lightly scraping the cool metal. A slight jarring, almost faintly like nails on a blackboard perhaps. Moving onto the bed, I straddled him and placed a hand on his chest to lay him down, his head dislodging the pillows, revealing my prepared favourite scarf tied to the headboard. I noticed him have a double take as the red silk caught his line of vision and smiled. Reaching under the pillows, I pulled out the two strands of the scarf, eager for his wrists to be wound up within. Almost instinctively, his hands began moving up to meet my own and one by one they were encased in the cool material. It seemed like there was a bit of a theme developing, cool metal, cool silk…I hoped he would guess what might follow.
Here we have my right hand with both rings, sporting a lovely red scarf
Checking the bonds were tight enough so no escapes could be made yet waiting for his nod to let me know they weren’t too tight, I went over to our cupboard to bring out a blindfold. Now this is something I’m quite chuffed with. One of my tops has a beautiful thick black ribbon on it, which consequently I thought would be ideal as a blindfold, our current one being slightly too short and see-through. I took this out and placed it over his eyes, removing his sight of what was to come. So, now sightless, unable to wriggle away, he was entirely mine to do as I pleased. Exactly what both of us adore.
After taking stock of my man, face down, fettered and topless exposing that beautiful creamy-skinned back I could spend an age ogling at, off I almost bounced in delight to the kitchen. He could hear me rattling about in there. Obviously reaching into the freezer. I brought my little box of ice cubes back in with me, opened it and placed it by his thigh, the chill temperature sweeping over his skin. He knew what I’d done. I saw him wriggle – with unease or delight? I wished for both – and placed myself between his spread legs, picking up an ice cube and popping it into my mouth for a few seconds.
It made him jump noticeably as I licked my way up his back with an ice-cold tongue, kissing his prickling skin with freezing lips. As I reached his neck and ear they had reached body temperature again and I half-whispered, half-growled:
This is only the beginning, honey.
Alas, not my hand, but you get the picture...
Only the beginning, my dears…
At Odds With Myself
It’s difficult sometimes to know what is best for myself. I know what I want, but the path to obtaining that goal can be twisted. What I want is to be thrown over the edge with desire. This kind of passion for me leaves two options which I must decide between. Do I take charge of things or let it all wash over me in submission?
My Switchy side has been in a little bit of flux lately. I’m feeling terribly aroused. I think I’ll blame the hormones again. The side effect is at one moment I want to grab hold of him by the collar and sweep him into a long, lascivious, deeply satisfying kiss before dragging him off to bed. Or to the floor. Which ever is taking my fancy. But then the next moment and a single look in a certain way from him and I’m completely turned over to him, lost under his gaze, wanting him to break me however he wishes. Fingers plundering into me, all over me with nothing I can do but to fight back and scratch like some whimpering wildcat.
See what I mean? I’m trouble.
I don’t know where I am. Unstable. Constantly on the verge of breaking out one way or the other with no clue as to which it will be. Tonight for instance – he will be returning in the next hour from work and all day I’ve been scheming for some bondage play for him. Even to the extent of pre-tying the scarves to the bed to quicken my haste when the time comes. But as I write this, my mind is switching, going to the other side of the pendulum swing; imagining myself in those fetters and the emotion washes over me. I must remain resolved. Seduce him and take him with me to the bedroom. Lightly push him onto the bed, staring into his eyes as I lie on top of him fully clothed, taking his wrists in my hands and drawing them up above his head…
I must keep that image in my head, or else I will be lost again by a sudden gesture of his, a look, a certain angle of his smile. The tone in his sentences. I can’t allow a split second response rule the outcome of the evening. Stick to the plan, get the candles going, bring the ice cubes in. Cover his eyes. Yes. Sounds good.
I need to air this here to make sure I go ahead with it. I’ll let you know soon what happened. If I kept my word.
Naughty LadyP
I thought I may announce: I’VE MOVED IN!!
Cue lots of giggles, jumping and smiles. Mister is spending this evening with his mates with his guitar practise for his marvellous musical band-y type thing. Monday night band practise – can’t be forsaken for mere little Pandorah. So I’ve taken the opportunity to add another post. It’s given me the excuse to laze around the flat in very little and dig out my erotica collection. What a wonderful way to spend one’s Bank Holiday Monday. Well, I think so, at least. I managed to read through an entire Black Lace book with the plot centering around voyeurism and exhibitionism and used my buzzy thing very effectively without fear of who might hear from down the hall. Oh! It did feel so, so good to lay out all my paraphernalia for the afternoon on the bed and not worry about hurriedly hiding it all away in case someone knocked on my bedroom door. Bliss. And lustfully naughty. What a day wasted some may say. What a day well spent, I say.
Sharing time once again. I’ve not had a Sharing Post for a little while. Time to make amends.
What makes you feel naughty?
Isn’t is deliciously fun when you are doing something you’re not supposed to? I love it. Transgression and rule-breaking I don’t tend to go for day to day, but every once in a while it simply has to be done.
Like now, for instance. I’m currently being terribly bad. I’m stealing someone’s t’internet to write this post. I’ve often found that with my wonderful wireless laptop I can find the neighbours’ broadband connections…Well, surely they’re bringing it on themselves if they don’t Security-Enable their internet, no?
How appropriate is xkcd today! Love it! 
Last night was beautiful. Our second night spent in the flat and it was certainly no disappointment. I think our new metal bed frame is quite a turn on for my dear man. I myself have found it particularly of use to grip onto the pole-bits on the headboard in mid throes and moans of ecstasy. More of that at a later date when I am less red wined.
Ahh, another slightly naughtiness for my catalogue – solitary drinking. I very very rarely indulge in this. But we had some house-warming-present red wine left over from last night, and not one to see it going all vinegary, I decided to finish it. As you may have noticed, it’s not doing a great deal for my paragraph structure for this post, but to hell with lucidity.
One thing I find incredibly naughty turns out to be a bit of a paradox. An oxymoron if you will (Any excuse to use some GCSE English knowledge). When he spanks me, it’s then that I feel so, so naughty. Not for what I have done to deserve the spanking, but the acutal receiving of it itself. Hmm. I just get so aroused and wet when he does that. And he’s so good at it.
So, your turn – do tell…Maybe I’ll be a benevolent listener and be generous with delving out your penances.
Or maybe not.
This is Desire
I am a girl on edge. It is becoming clearer and clearer to me that I need him. I want him. I want his eyes to gaze at me, burning over my skin. I need him to hold me, not tenderly, but forcefully. Like in the movies – girl turns to walk away and is grabbed and swung round into passionate embrace.
Desire. It eats away at me. It’s all fine to have our distance from one another, but when it comes to the essential being of me, I need to have him. Possessive? Dependent? I don’t know. All I know is how I feel and I feel ablaze. I feel my blood running through my body, feel it coursing its way from my heart, down through the flutterings of my stomach centering at my pussy and further down to make my toes tingle. All that at the single, instant thought of him. They say that when a girl is aroused her mouth darkens subtly, making them even more sensitive to touch. No wonder it makes me jump so when he lightly traces his fingertip over my lips.
I want to have him to myself, alone in our place. No distractions. Silence. Just him and me together left to our own minds’ fantasies, our dreams. Nightmares? I need to have all the time it takes to look over him, from the tips of his hair downwards. The time to drink him in with my own eyes.
Away from eachother for only a day or two, a mere matter of hours in fact, and this desperation to have him is ridiculous. Goodness knows how I coped when it was three, four, five weeks apart. The knowledge that the time is fast approaching when we will be under one another’s feet all the time is making the experience of distance unbearable. I fidget. Unable to be still – one of my bad habits. fingers always twitching. Nerves? Worries? Guilty conscience? When I am with him I am able to be still. To be calm. Placid. His soothing nature radiates around me, reflecting into myself and it rubs off on me.
I see him in a few hours’ time. Can I last that long without that exploding feeling to return? I’ll have to wait. Bide my time. The spider waiting. Patience is a virtue. Rest your soul in patience, Pandorah! Yes.
[Is it me or am I putting too many subtle references in my posts? This one contains at least three: One to a book, another to a play and a third to a song. Answers on a comment card if you know any of them. Win an E-Cookie]
House Warming
So, I have alluded to here and there that the past week and a half has been pretty shite. I won’t go into it – personal stuff and all that – but it’s been emotionally draining. And we’ll leave it at that. What I will say is that a few months ago I bought two tickets to a festival in my locality of the Westcountry in merry old England that both myself and Mister go to each year since it began six years ago. Not to be wasteful of the pennies we had spent, I wanted to still go even though it was so badly timed with everything that’s going on right now. I was in two minds but economic sense, family persuasion, the idea that it would be a good way of escaping and taking time out from the situation and the fact that missing out on one year would be disastrous for my OCD-ness made me come round to actually going.
I have never been so muddy in my life.
Last year was muddy. This year was soggy, damp, boggy, swamp-like, windy, rainy and muddy. But I still enjoyed myself. Saw some great music, bands and comedians and removed the furrow from my worried over-emotional forehead. The final night, Sunday, I suggested to Mister that we pack up early and drive to our shiny new flat we now have keys for (eee!). So after being towed by a helpful tractor man through the mud we eventually arrived at our home. As we were dropping off to sleep I caught him mumbling that this was our bedroom, our bed. My cockles were warmed.
But before all that snuggling – we christened the flat. We’d actually done the deed last week after Mister had decided to get frisky with me on the floor of the sitting room as I sat lying against him inbetween his legs as I tuned in the TV and retired to the bedroom then, but we hadn’t spent the night there as we were this Sunday night.
We were both physically exhausted from jigging about to the music all day then hauling camping gear up a mudslide, but as we were dropping off to sleep he vocalised what I had been thinking for a few weeks. We have a new black metal bedframe and our thoughts on that topic were running parallel to one another.
I am going to tie you to this bed. Arms and legs to the bedframe. He told me.
Is that a threat or a promise? I retorted.
To which he promptly became very stirred by the thought. Already naked – he refuses to wear anything in bed – his hands began to snake through my nightwear. Slowly shifting my waistband lower as he drew nearer to his goal. The action of being slowly and deliberately undressed by him truly is one of the things that gets me very turned on, very quickly. My own hands were seeking out his body, reaching behind me as he held me in his arms. I felt his hard cock press into my back – another sure fire way to turn me on, knowing he is feeling as randy as I am. The need to have one another was growing stronger.
He grasped at my hair and held my wrists, future echoes I hope of what will ensue once we are settled in permanently. I clawed at his shoulders and drew him closer to me, wanting to feel the weight of his body against, on top of, mine. Sitting back and looking at me, I knew he wanted to take me from behind. I positioned myself and as he entered me that beautiful rush swept over my body. There’s nothing quite like that first thrust, my body readjusting to the familiar, yet every time unique feeling. In our aroused but tired state, I was more at ease in relaxing into completely throwing myself into the moment and soon found myself moaning along with Mister’s own vocal contribution.
We christened the bed nicely. It doesn’t make a creak or noise like my current bed at my parents’ house. Wonderful! No longer will I have to worry about breaking the springs, nor will I have to worry about waking up those in adjoining rooms. We fell to drowsiness contented, happy and wrapped in one another’s arms.
Until we had to shift into a more suitable sleeping position apart. But, as always, we still had our physical connection – toe to toe, we fell into blissful dreams of the future, far from the worries of the present. It will all work out alright. It may take a little while to get there with a few more tears, but I know it will be better again soon.
Show Off
I’ve been shopping. I bought a new ring yesterday. Don’t you agree it goes perfectly with my new underwear I bought last week?
It’s a silver band with turquoise set into it. I’ve been after one of these types of rings for years and had never been able to find one that a) fitted my fingers and, b) I liked. This fits both. I am also fond of my knickers. I bought the matching bra with this from La Senza last week. I seem to be developing a monochrome black and white theme to a number of my wardrobe items. I’m not 100% convinced about the knickers. They’re lovely, but they are more comfortable if worn with a skirt as the hem-line is floaty and loose rather than clinging to my skin. I do love the embroidery, though.
I painted my nails especially for this picture. My toes are almost permenantly this colour. I do like it. A deep red. The name on the bottle is ‘Desire’, how apt. My left hand is currently naked of colour, I may paint it later, but it will most probably chip within an hour of working at the café tomorrow morning. Still, fun while it lasts, eh?
I’m often curious as to which pair of underwear Mister prefers, and whether they are the same ones that I like the most. I have some green/turquoise lacy French knickers that look fabulous on me, I think. Especially with the matching bra. I am a sucker for coordination. He does like these, but his favourites are my pair of cream/off-white knickers which are designed to reduce VPL. I have an identical pair in black, but he prefers the lighter colour as he says it compliments my skin tone and shapely bottom. I have to admit, they look pretty fine on when I twist around to look at my posterior. The thing is, I don’t have a matching bra for them. Grr. I’m not one, really for white/cream bras. I am to be found in a black bra most days. I own very few white tops and so never really have the difficulty of disguising the colour of my underwear under such garments. The knickers do seem to go well with the turquoise bra, and I use that to great effect. Mister is always too keen to remove all my clothes at any rate, and sometimes neglects to remember the thought I put into choosing them in his hurry to get me nekkid. But he Always comments when I wear the creamy coloured pair. So I know he appreciates them. As I do the compliment.
I get very hot and steamy when he reaches into my knickers. It’s that trespassing, the crossing of a boundary. It’s not quite the same when he reaches down to me when I am without clothes. There’s something very teenage-ish in the whole ‘I’m touching you through your panties, how wicked of me!’ look that gets into his eyes. My response is almost always the same – to look disprovingly at him at the temerity of his actions then to relinquish all thoughts of denying or preventing him and sit or lie back and enjoy his attention. Usually at the same time my hand will snake itself to his crotch to find him hard and hot under my fingers. I have a little thing I do where I scratch at the fabric of his jeans, where it rouches up and no skin is directly under it, to send tingles into his groin. A nice trick up my sleeve.
So, there you go, my very own Half Nekkid Pandorah shot. In colour, too! You lucky, lucky devils. I’m not going to be going in for HNTs; not my style, I regret. Haven’t told Mister about this yet, maybe I’ll leave it for him to find in his own time.
I could be waiting a while for his response. Shhh…don’t tell on me!
Sexy Music Videos – Madonna
I may be a little late in this posting, by about 18 years, but after revisiting some of Madonna’s music videos, I felt I had to write about them. We’ve all heard about her shenanigans of the 90s and her continuing pursuance of shock-factor publicity. There are her recent videos of her trying too hard to show she’s still a sexual being and possesses the flexibility of a slinky which roughly started with her collaboration with Britney and has most recently been showing off with another Disney Club Alumni, Justin Trousersnake in ‘4 Minutes’. I don’t want to talk about that. I want to go back to when she was truly flicking the switches of men and women. The early 90s.
There are a few videos in particular that I find myself getting rather hot and bothered whilst watching, namely ‘Erotica’ and ‘Justify My Love’. The triple combination of music, lyrics and moving image creates an escapists and voyeur’s paradise of kinky fun. Take a look at this still from ‘Erotica’:
I shall end with some musings over lyrics from Our Lady of the Kink:
Excuse the fuzz.
This is what you are left with at the end of ‘Justify My Love’. They occur earlier in her song itself and is silently repeated here so this is the lasting impression, the ghost image, you are left with after the video has left your screen. Again, the ambiguity seeps back in. Sure, a man, or woman for that matter, is lessened by their dependence entirely on the permission of another. But I don’t feel that the above sentence rings true for the images we have just seen. Or from ‘Erotica’. (In fact, that video could be ended with the exact opposite sentence ‘Rich is the man…’) They all seem to be pretty exuberant in their playing. Here’s the rub, however, for me. Pleasure is always a two way thing, even if you are in a Dom/sub relationship. A lot rides on the submissive’s consent – which in other eyes could be named permission – be it arranged a long time ago or in the instant their session begins in being treated in that manner. So, for me and my viewpoint on sex, pleasures can depend on the permission of another, but it is never a complete dependence. There should always be some level of communication and balancing (even if differently weighted) of permissions.
The videos here are just a little taster of things that I find erotic in life. Music, images, words. This combination is personally what can tip things over for me. I’ve talked before about music and songs I find sexy as well as exhibiting some of my own enticing words and images in front of you all. Sex and sexuality is always going to be a subjective area for people. Sometimes, I think, moments come along where we all unite together and find one individual the epitome of sex. And arguably, Madonna in these videos is that individual as someone enjoying her sexuality, laughing and having fun all at the same time being deadly serious in her pursuance of pleasure.
Pinch Punch
I wrote in my new shiny widget over there the other day —>
It was about pinching. Timely, of course, being the first of the month the other day. I wonder – do they have this in America? Calling my US readers: Do they have ‘Pinch punch, first of the month!’ in families across the states? Or is it just an English thing?
Back to sex. Mmm.
Mister has a habit of pinching me. Not nasty, Primary School kid-like pinches in my arms (I’m the one that does those) but pinches around my intimate areas. He pinches my pussy. This I find at the same time rather odd and a weird thing to do, but it’s also rather fun and arousing. He doesn’t exactly pinch my pussy itself, more like the surrounding areas. The place where the skin begins to get fleshier as I’m lying on my back and the muscular buttocks start. Little nips around there. I guess it’s stimulating the blood flow to the area and gets my sensitivity going down there.
He doesn’t do it all the time, every time, but it makes me start and take notice all the more of what his hands are doing.
Still, I think it’s a little odd. Do your partners have a weird little thing they do to you? Or that you do to them? I’m curious once again.
I like to pinch now and then. Maybe just so that he can reciprocate in kind. I do love my mild masochism. We have some nipple clamps somewhere about the place. Probably in the box. We used them a few times, and I have one Really Hot picture of Mister on my phone that I took whilst he was blindfolded, tied and nipple clamped on my desk chair a few years ago in my Uni digs. It’s a bit fuzzy, being a cameraphone photo, but it still makes me go all gooey inside when I see it. I would love to post it up here, but Mister has requested that no photos go up of him on my site. If I ever have a good scratchy moment, I may copy Blacksilk and show off my welts on his skin, if he allows it. The last time we went in for that, I so wish I had my camera to take pics. He looked so yummy with his red lines over his arse and flexed shoulder-blades.
I had to crop the fake nails, they were just hideous
Moving on.
I seem to be finding it difficult to write posts lately. I’ve looked back over a few of the more recent ones, and they’re not as tingly as I would like them to be. I have made up my mind to write some more smuttier stuff and get my creative juices flowing. I want to have a few more stories up for you in the coming weeks. Once I’ve moved, it’ll be a while before I get phone and broadband set up in our flat so I’ll be flung back to the Stone Age without t’internet for a few weeks, methinks. How I’ll cope is a matter I don’t want to contemplate just yet, though. I want to leave you with more than a few scraps of meat to keep you going without me.
(Egotist, me? Never)
So I’ll be working on some stories this week to post up now and again before I have my hiatus, and perhaps a tasteful (tasty?) photograph.
