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The Blog:

Don’t.. just don’t, because you don’t know.

You look at me, I know you do, you look at my mummsy clothing, my hair pulled back into a sloppy bunch, my freebie nappy bag and my very functional pushchair that isn’t sleek and designer like yours and I feel you judging me.

I stand in the supermarket with my three year old in melt down because I said “No!” and I’m sticking to my fucking guns because otherwise he will twist me around his little finger with his puppy dog eyes and his little boy charm.

Don’t look at me like I can’t control my son, he’s three, of course I can’t, this is why he’s having a tantrum, so he can learn the boundaries. Boundaries are critical in life. Not for me the feral child disturbing everyone’s day in the restaurant age six… This is how I make that happen.

We walk down the road, he and I with our three children and they are letting off steam by singing and dancing as we go, and yes, I’m still carrying baby fat, a bit sweaty and a little frazzled from still having broken nights feeding, my eyes constantly darting everywhere the children run, and he’s looking cool and together. He only drove the car, didn’t spend six hours planning this trip and packing for it… Yes, I know he’s a gorgeous hunk of a man and you are wondering what the hell he sees in me… But just don’t fucking judge me.

Look closer, did you see that gesture? The one where he tucks my hair behind my ear and we laugh together over some silly in joke. I’m making this work through hells teeth… He’s making this work through being my backbone, okay, so aren’t we conventional in our roles, sometimes that works best for folk. Don’t judge… Just don’t.

Feeling a bit annoyed today can you tell?

The thing is dear readers, I know its not fair to rant at you because you have been proven most nonjudgmental,  but this is my little ranty space of the bloggysphere and without you reading  I would be INSANE! by now. So thank you. 

My point is, you just never know what is actually going on with people, or if they are judging at all, some people seem to get off on it whilst others barely register your existence.

Most people, most… are so caught up in their busy lives that you barely touch their radar.  All the time behind the closed doors they are finding their own boundaries, be it by vacuuming frantically through sexual frustration, or zipping up into tight pvc outfits, maybe sneaking the wife’s panties on under their suit, drooling over the next door neighbours gardener.  Handcuffs, whips, ropes, chains, paddles… Sadness, emptiness, loneliness, desire, lust, we are all searching for our own reality in our own way and you just never know. 

So don’t judge.


There were a few things today that struck Mark as particularly annoying: the shower breaking wasn’t one of them, that was just inconvenient, but the fact that Janice was still in the bath when he returned, was.

He had been chatting and flirting with Penny for about an hour, an hour in the bath was, in Mark’s opinion, obsessive, and Janice knew that. She must be angling for his attention, he chuckled to himself.
“Janice! Out of the bath now please darling.” He said firmly through the closed door. Although the door was shut and he didn’t try to open it, he knew it wouldn’t be locked. He could hear discontented grumbling from the other side; it had that bathroom echoey quality that amplified it slightly. “Okay, I shall on this occasion give you a choice, you can get out now or you can stay there until the plumber comes in 20 minutes and you can be his payment. I’m sure he would be thrilled at the prospect.” The silence was deafening and then he heard the plug being pulled and water slopping noises as his wife left the bath tub reluctantly.

Mark considered himself to be a reasonable man, firm but fair. He ran a tight ship and expected compliance from his staff and his wife, although it had to be said that the staff might object to the discipline levelled at Janice if she misbehaved. 1 stroke of the paddle to let her know she was wrong, 10 if he never wanted that behaviour again. One might consider their bedroom antics to be ‘punishment’ but Mark knew Janice better than that. She also knew that he was not beyond fastening her to the bed and offering her as payment to tradesmen, he would not threaten anything he was not prepared to carry out and never caved in on a threat no matter how idle. He knew the prospect filled her with a certain thrill, Janice, for all her airs, graces and flouncy artistic ways, was a slut and loved to be used as a fuck toy.

They both knew how lucky they were to have found each other, to balance each other’s need so well.    She needed discipline and direction, someone to literally hold the reins and keep her feeling safe, although Mark’s definition of safe might not have quite the same boundaries as some peoples, boundaries there were and they were based on Janice and her wishes, to a point, he had needs too.

Their relationship had taken years to get them where they were, endless communication and pushing until they both found a plateau from which they could happily exist whilst their exploration of their needs continued.

Mark had met Janice at a private BDSM party over 15 years ago, he had attended with his sub at the time. He felt in his right mind space being a Dominant and would have liked to make it his lifestyle but his current girlfriend had not been a 24/7 type of woman, the relationship was on the out.

Janice was caught in a M/s relationship with a Master that Mark had always considered a ruthless sadist and had given a wide birth. Her Master liked to play publicly and got more caught up in ‘playing the scene’ than a person in control of another human should. The punishment Janice had sustained during that evening had been taken to far, Mark had found her after the excitement had subsided, still cuffed in a pile of her own faeces, bruised with what turned out to be cracked ribs, while the man who she had gifted herself to preened with his friends.

Mark was unable to stand by and when the necessary after-care seemed to be delayed more than he felt was appropriate (in his opinion nothing mattered more then this incredible individual) he stepped in. With the help of the host he had found clothes for her and taken her to hospital where he had stayed with her until she regained her composure.

Slowly as she recovered, he gained her trust and they talked when they thought no one was listening about the man she considered to be her Master and his treatment of her. Mark abhorred this type of treatment, it gave everyone living the lifestyle or even touching on it a bad name. She acknowledged that she wouldn’t go back to him, he’d scared her now she knew he had no limits and no love for her, she was a strong opinionated woman who was willing to give herself as a sub/slave because that was how she felt complete in her soul. Now she’d been left feeling crushed, endangered and afraid for her life. Her sense of trust was shattered.
“This is the second time he’s left me like that, I wanted the scene, we discussed it, planned it, it gives me a sense of who I am, I crave it. But…” her eyes implored him to understand. “It was more than I could take and I got lost, I guess he didn’t see it.” Tears had streamed down her swollen face.
“Sweetheart” Mark soothed, “It’s rare, so rare… You know in your heart if this is right for you. Do you have someone you can stay with? While you sort out your thoughts and decide what you want and need?” he had asked kindly, she nodded and told him where to find them. Her friends came at once and between them they helped her recover. At that point, Mark faded away in the background with the certain knowledge that Janice’s life was her choice, she had to forge her own future be it back with her Master or starting afresh, he didn’t want her to feel bound to him in sympathy.

He’d kept in touch with the odd email, just out of seeming courtesy, sometimes she replied, sometimes she didn’t but she seemed to be gathering her life together and forging ahead positively. He had heard she had been through a tough time splitting up with her master, it was acrimonious and nasty but she was now attending college and working in a craft shop, running classes and she sounded happy, he admired her strength of character.

A year after that fateful night he received an email asking if he would meet her for drinks: secretly thrilled Mark tried hard not to read anything into it. They met in the village where there was a derelict pub that Mark was considering buying; it gave him the chance to blend in and scope the possible competition.
“It’s so good to see you! You look so well!” He exclaimed truthfully, her long blonde hair hung in waves over shoulders and her previously gaunt face looked healthy. She had full sensual lips and high cheekbones. The only evidence of her bad experience was a scar across the corner of her right eye.
“It’s good to see you too Mark.” She purred softly in his ear as she offered a cheek to be kissed. He bought some drinks and the found a quiet corner where they could talk and exchanged pleasantries about their lives. She told him about college and regaled him with stories of the pottery and painting classes she taught; whilst he outlined his plans for the pub should he buy it. Eventually after a few glasses of wine she sighed deeply and as he looked at her questioningly, she said.
“Mark, I miss it, I feel directionless.” He instantly knew what she meant. “I’ve tried dating ‘normal’ men, it’s not right somehow, I’ve tried dating women too.” She grinned at him and he chuckled “One got close, Mistress Leana.” She rolled her eyes “She just wasn’t right, for me that is, she wasn’t that great a mistress… People just play at the lifestyle, they dabble, think it’s a game, it’s not a game for me, it’s who I am. I can live without it of course but I would like to be able to choose not to. My problem is I’m struggling to trust.” She laughed mirthlessly, he took her hand to comfort her.
“It might take a while to trust someone again, so follow your instincts.”
“I am.” She said simply and squeezing his hand she raised it to her lips and kissed his palm, looking up at him with her sad green eyes in a way that took his breath away and he knew he would change the world for this woman.

And so it began, their journey together and so far Mark had to admit it worked very well, they understood each other, were in love, needed no one else but sometimes on a whim, shared themselves with others, they had an agreement that any ‘infidelity’ did not end up on the doorstep, Mark wondered if he had on occasion, pushed the boundaries on that point a little too far but trusted the discretion of his friends.

Janice walked past him in just a towel, hair dripping, pouting, eyes full of annoyance.
“Stop.” Mark ordered in a quiet level tone. An unexpected witness would not have thought anything of it, Janice knew that tone and her spine tingled as she stopped exactly where she stood. “Drop the towel.” His voice quietly emphasised each syllable and the towel was dropped instantly. Mark admired his wife’s shapely hips and arse, marked as it was by yellowing bruises from a crop session earlier in the week. “Brace yourself.” With total compliance Janice grasped her knees displaying her luscious thick pussy lips shining with wetness. He felt his cock swell in his pants and unloosening the buckle, slipping out his leather belt administered a swift but forceful strike across her buttocks. She didn’t make a sound. Unbuttoning his trousers he slipped out his cock and swiftly sank it in her pussy, fucking her hard, he used her until he came, leaving bright red finger marks in her skin from his grip and then redressed without a word, slamming the door behind him to see to the plumbers arrival. Janice stood up straight, a thick trail of their combined juices running down her thigh and smiled a satisfied smile to herself in the mirror, knowing the ‘conversation’ was far from over.

To be continued…


© Juliette Turrell