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New Management

October 11, 2012 by Heather Cole

It all began with a little red heart next to one of my pictures on Fetlife. The man who bestowed it had a handsome, smiling face and was partnered with a young woman who had recently posted a journal entry about having “no expectations” when it came to relationships. It was good writing, and I admired their open, loving way with one another. It’s hard sometimes to get a feel of people electronically, but Spanks and Miss M gave me a good vibe.

FINE! I was stalking them. OK? I was running late to Liri’s birthday party at Matt’s house, because my muffins wouldn’t rise. Not a euphemism. So I was looking at Fet and trying to formulate my intentions for the evening. I know I have a tendency to overthink things, but I like deciding what I want out of an evening ahead of time. Since I currently have no Master or Dom, I like to think about my options. You see, I’m under new management–my own.

When I arrived at the party, it was no surprise when Liri grabbed me by the hand to meet some “awesome folks.” It was right in keeping with my goals for the night. I intended to meet at least three new people, and I wanted to help Liri celebrate. After making our way through a crowd of people, I was suddenly staring face-to-face with the very couple I had been looking at on my computer screen. In fact, I think my first sentence was, “holy fuck, I was just stalking you on Fetlife!” Yes, I’m a card carrying member of dork.

I was thrilled to discover that Spanks and Miss M were as engaging as I had thought. They were friendly and kind and smoothed right over my stupid opening line. Liri drifted away to speak with someone else, and it wasn’t long before Miss M divulged that she had a bit of a crush on Liri. Darlings, if I had a dollar for every person, male and female, that has told me that, I’d be typing this on a gold plated laptop. Of course I was delighted to facilitate some play between the nubile Miss M and my girl. I believe Liri’s exact words were, “it’s my birthday, and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want!” She then turned to the excited couple and explained, “Heather is a connoisseur of pain and a slave.” As I blushed at the introduction, Liri asked me to be her assistant.

Miss M protested when I knelt to unfasten the tiny buckles around her slender ankles, but I brushed off her offer to help. “This is the perk of having a slave,” I said. I carefully folded her clothes and set her wine glass to the side where it wouldn’t get knocked over by floggers or canes. The services I performed, although small, were significant. I’m service inclined, generally speaking, in my day-to-day interactions, but that night was different. I realized hours later that the thing that sent a sizzle of electricity through me was demonstrating what I was capable of. It was a mere ripple on the surface of my deep submission, but it was as if I said with each graze of my fingertip along her calf, “do you realize what it would be like to own me? Even for a night…”

Miss M was cuffed to the large wooden frame in the living room, and Spanks and I sat back to watch the scene. Sweeties, never doubt for a moment that my Liri isn’t a fucking sadistic cunt. She will smile and laugh and tell you the very best things from her giant science brain, and then that beautiful woman will treat your most tender bits to some serious pain. From the volume of Miss M’s shrieks, I think she’d agree with me. After I snapped some excellent pictures of Spanks with his head buried between Miss M’s creamy thighs, Liri cleaned up the implements she had used and motioned me upstairs.

We ended up in a tangle on the bed, and an orgasm soon followed. Mine, that is. It should probably have been Liri receiving the orgasm since she was one of the three birthday girls that night, but when she’s feeling bossy, I’m a very happy recipient of her oral administrations. Then she bounded out of bed and tugged on her second outfit of the evening, announcing that she was going downstairs to receive birthday spanks. I moved to follow, but I was much slower to pull myself together. A good orgasm can do that to you.

I was almost out of the bedroom when Miss M appeared in the doorway with Spanks in tow. She was wearing his white button down shirt and was a vision of red hair and pale, smooth skin. I gave her a hug of congratulations on a great scene, and she said something complimentary in return. Our conversation is a bit blurred in my memory. I can remember the feel of her hands on the curve of my waist and how close her heart-shaped face was to mine. She wanted to play with me. Even if the actual words had never crossed her lips, I would have felt it in the charged air between us. My brain almost short-circuited on our sexual sparks, but I experienced a moment of panic. Who did I ask for permission?

I’m not accustomed to operating without specific rules. Liri doesn’t own me. We’re dating. We love each other. But she has never restricted anything I do. I’ve asked her for things, but she has never required anything of me like, “thou shalt not play with other women!” The conflict is that I’ve been trained to navigate with specific rules in place about what I may or may not do in a play situation. My instincts were to automatically ask permission as any slave would, but there wasn’t anyone to ask. Just when I thought I’d have to run in the bathroom and hide, Miss M said the thing that sealed my fate, “I’ve never had the chance to explore a woman before.”

I’ve blogged about some of my bisexual challenges here, so the regular readers will know that I spent years yearning to have a “real” experience with another woman. I feared that I would be forever stuck in the bi-curious category because of lack of opportunity and a lack of confidence with women. When Miss M said that, her words reverberated with my own. I also saw a glimmer of what my heart truly wanted–to be used as a sexual toy. At some point Spanks asked to video us for his personal library, and you know me, I agreed. It was for posterity!

Nails raked down my chest as teeth fastened around my right nipple. Instinctively I arched my back, but Miss M pinned my lower body firmly with her own. Her hair was a cascade around me as she nibbled and kissed her way over my body. She complimented me, worshipped me, and I felt honored and… speechless with the gift she was giving me. Someone’s first. Miss M’s first. The memory of it brings all those feelings back, and I’m grateful all over again as I sit here and write.

Miss M’s mouth was still between my legs when Liri came back into the bedroom.

“OH!” she said and disappeared into the bathroom.

Miss M and I parted with more hugs and caresses while my brain churned. Technically I hadn’t broken any rules, but my slave instincts were in high gear. I needed to apologize to Liri. I tried to squelch my rising panic. The voice of reason whispered, this isn’t the same situation. Liri is different. We didn’t have enough rules that kept our feelings safe! I argued with logic. What was I supposed to do, just blunder around until I really fucked something up? I needed to fix something. I worried that I had somehow hurt Liri even though nothing of the sort had been verbalized between us. Liri swore she was fine, that what I had done was fine, that everything was peachy birthday keen. But as I’ve written a hundred times before, old patterns are a bitch to change. If she had taken a crop to me or caned me until I sobbed, it would have been a relief; that remembered pattern of guilt assuaged in physical pain. Maybe the uncertainty I fretted over was related to both of us trying to feel our way through a completely new situation. Neither one of us had expected me to be the lady cherry popper, but there I was in the afterglow.

Liri told me to get on the bed again. I frowned in confusion but did as she ordered. She gave me one instruction: I had to count my orgasms out loud. Once my brain caught up with my body, I relaxed. Liri probably didn’t mean it as a reclaiming, but the slave in me interpreted it as such and took comfort in it. I tried to articulate the feeling later, but I don’t think I managed it. Liri and I have talked about playing with the incredible Miss M again, but it’s Liri who has my time, my energy and a piece of my heart. She’s also the one who inspired me to yell, “four is my favorite number!”


7 Comments »

  1. Anna says:

    Blimey, Heather, that’s incredible – both the scene and the fact that you can articulate it so beautifully. Thank you for sharing. And yes, the Top in me would have wanted to reclaim you, for sure. xox

  2. Brittany says:

    Heather! I want to love this post. Maybe make love to it. Then hug it and caress it. Then do all of that to you.

    What an amazing experience! I only wish I could have been there, just to watch all of this occur. Everything sounds so fantastic. I can only imagine your confusion, then pleasure, then uncertainty, over and over. Having no one to ask for permission when you’re so used to it…I can understand what that would feel like. But I think you handled it well. 😉

  3. Spanks says:

    I must say, it was something to watch indeed. I love that your experience moved you to such delicate prose. Now I’m going to have to read ALL your stuff!

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