Heart’s Desire. Sinful Sunday #389


Dorothy: …and it’s that – if I ever go looking for my heart’s desire again, I won’t look any further than my own backyard. Because if it isn’t there, I never really lost it to begin with! Is that right?
Glinda: That’s all it is!
Scarecrow: But that’s so easy! I should’ve thought of it for you –
Tin Man: I should have felt it in my heart –
Glinda: No, she had to find it out for herself. Now those magic slippers will take you home in two seconds!
Dorothy: Oh! Toto too?
Glinda: Toto too.
Dorothy: Now?
Glinda: Whenever you wish…
Glinda: Then close your eyes and tap your heels together three times. And think to yourself, ‘There’s no place like home’.

The Wizard of Oz

L Frank. Baum

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Sinful Sunday


The thing about rabbits


He stealthily circled his rabbit hearted girl. Ever watchful and often deceptively quiet, she moved through her world with apparent confidence and ease. Yet, he knew better, for he observed her more intently than she knew. Underneath her mindful observance she was frequently alert, all senses heightened.

Readying to jump.

He sensed she’d welcome the touch that would stave off that flight and freeze instinct of hers. To allow her to shed her carefully concealed prey disposition, even for a while, and relax into the security she secretively craved. He’d noticed how quick to startle she was, sometimes she’d right herself and carry on with a renewed resolve.

Other times she’d flee.

That’s the thing about rabbits he supposed. They have a certain stalwart ability to sense danger, whilst simultaneously appearing seemingly indifferent. Yet, it would not be accurate to describe her as nonchalant for this would do her a great disservice. More, it was an expression of stealthy survival earned from a lifetime of foraging for peace and, as such, her strive to survive forged a strength within her as tenacious as the grass upon which she lay. Stretched out, eyes closed and nose twitching, surrounded by the silent winged dances of insects and flighty meadow seeds, she pawed at the grass, inhaling the scent of summer. The grass upon which he edged closer.

His lapin.

The thing about rabbits is their keen intuition and quick as lightning responses, so when he foolishly attempted too eagerly to breach the space between them she immediately opened her clear blue eyes wide and flipped to her side in an attempt to rise. His honed reactions mirrored hers as his cunning ignited.

He pounced.

Muscle and sinew stretching and contracting as he landed over her, around her, trapping her. His narrowed green eyes and canines glinted menacingly in the light as a bass rumble emanated from deep within his chest. He caught her foot in his grip as he flipped her.

Predator and prey.

The thing about rabbits is a back flip tends to subdue them in a freeze response. The thing about rabbits, however, is they know how to defend themselves. And the thing about rabbits is that one tends to supersede the other. She kicked out, rapid bicycling of her strong lower limbs, muscle impacting against muscle. She scratched his taut forearms as he covered her muzzle with his clawed hand. She bit against his palm as he nipped.

Her velvet ears.

“That’s it my lapin, fight me,” he urged “my precious creature.” Kneeing her thighs apart and ripping at the silken fabric of her heat, he took what was his as she finally calmed under him, contracting around him. Silently, she nuzzled her soft nose against his rough whiskers, her rabbit heart pounding to the beat of his primal rutting as she finally found the quiet place deep in the burrow of her mind, the place where she could run free. The place only he could take her.

On the grass as tenacious and wild as her.

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The Coronet


She stood at the edge of the mezzanine level, bent at the waist, hands gripping the brass rail. Her gloss heels and polished latex skater skirt reflecting the laser show lights that danced across the chill out area. The force of his cock, pumping into her from behind, rocked her back and forth on her tip toes, almost in time to the trance music blaring from the heaving dance floor below.

I sat, resting in the red velvet theatre seat, and watched them. He sat next to me, hand resting protectively on my stocking clad thigh, intently observing me observing them.

“Do you like what you see?” he enquired.

I squirmed in my seat, simultaneously embarrassed at silently revealing my admittance. I smiled, my eyes never leaving them, increasingly aroused by our view. She had her head down now, bracing against his thrusts as her long hair swayed to and fro. Oblivious to their audience and the extravagantly dressed kinksters coming and going around them.

He leant in towards me ever so slightly, as his hand trailed up my thigh and stopped. Eyes forward, his other arm casually resting on the flocked arm rest, he tapped one finger against my mound.

“Open your legs.” It wasn’t a request.

I slid forward a little and tilted my pelvis, opening my legs as wide as the seat would allow. I rested one heel on the back of the empty seat in front.

“Don’t make a sound, just watch” he whispered. Finding the slit of my open crotch latex knickers he dipped one then two fingers into me, swirling my wetness around the rubber, both acknowledging and shaming my response to him, and them.

Silently, slowly, excruciatingly he finger fucked me. Expertly matching his penetration to that of the cock below. Mesmerised by what I could see, and stimulated by what I could feel, the sight and the sensation blended. The cock was fucking me, he was fucking me, he was fingering me, and he was not going to stop.

I clutched at the arm rests as my cunt clutched at his relentless sopping fingers. The scent of my arousal hung in the air like the smoke and the sweat from the dancers below. And the beat of the music pounded on as he pounded me and he pounded her.

“You love to watch don’t you?” he growled, breaking the silence between us. “My filthy little voyeur.” Desperate now for more I rocked my hips to take him deeper, to open wider and ride his fingers harder.

“Please…” I whimpered, feeling it rise within me, powerless to prevent it against the repeated pressure against my clit, his finger tips grazing my G spot over and over in harmony to the fucking being played out in front of us, a show within a show.

”Please, what?…”

Fuck, he was going to make me do this. I glanced down. He had her by the hair now, head pulled back, mouth open, his hand gripping her hip as he used her like a doll. Nearly there.





Each word forced out on ragged exhales, balancing on that knife edge between here and oblivion. He withdrew his fingers fully and as I gasped at the sudden emptiness and began to turn he forced them back inside me. Deeper. Fuller.


I clamped around his hand as I combusted, arching hard against the waves and involuntarily throwing my head back against the knees of whoever was sitting behind us, echoing the fuck doll at the rail, her own climax drowned out by the bass beat below us.

And the lasers danced and flickered and the party people came and went as we chilled out in the Coronet.

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Why I love PRICK


When Cuiplash and I first dipped our toes into this exciting new world of BDSM a number of years ago, I quickly became aware of all the labels and acronyms surrounding risk, consent and play. It became obvious to me that the wealth of activities, toys and implements carried a wide range of actual or perceived risk. 

The first one I became familiar with was Safe, Sane & Consensual (SSC). This seemed to be the most familiar and accepted guide as a cover all for most activities and is pretty self explanatory. It assumes that participants agree that what they do is safe, that it is done with sound mind and with consent from all involved. One criticism of SSC, however, is that it doesn’t necessarily encompass risk awareness. It also relies somewhat on perceptions of what is safe or sane and potentially assumes some acts as safe and others as not, when in fact, all carry risk and are not inherently safe, or sane.

This takes us to the next broadly accepted  alternative guide that is Risk Aware Consensual Kink (RACK). This focuses much more on assuming all parties are risk aware and consent is implicit so I would say it’s potentially an improvement on SSC, although can also be criticised on the assumptions that participants have ensured they are risk aware.

A third acronym deals more specifically with the emotional and mental well-being of all involved, a notion not necessarily encompassed by SSC or RACK, and is known as Committed Compassionate Consent (CCC). This one, for many, fills a perceived gap in ensuring not just the physical safety of those involved but the consideration of the whole person.

My favourite, however, is Personal Responsibility, Informed Consensual Kink (PRICK), which is seen as an extension of RACK. I love PRICK (lol) as it makes more sense to me to be actively involved in my own kink education and risk awareness. It makes sense to me to accept personal responsibility for choosing to participate in risky activities from an informed position.

I feel I cannot expect to put that responsibility entirely on Cuiplash, despite trusting him implicitly. Despite being his submissive, I am also first and foremost his wife, his partner, his best friend and the mother of his children and I believe I have an equal part to play in learning and understanding the risks we take with my body, my emotions and my mental wellbeing when we play the way we do sometimes. His emotions and wellbeing are of equal importance and, for us, knowing we both understand what we are doing and why, and the potential impacts, serves to strengthen our connection and mutual trust and confidence in each other to do no harm.

As we developed our D/s and our S&M we explored many things and slowly and gradually pushed boundaries, particularly around the more ‘edgy’ activities including fisting, breath play and knife play. It took us a number of years to build upon and develop an increased repertoire to our initial kink and play foundation and I would really urge new people to take it slowly and at your own pace. For each, however, I wanted to ensure I knew exactly what the risks were, what to be aware of, what not to do and where the risks lay. I remember researching caning early on, when it was a hard limit for me, and finding out skin can be split and feeling terrified at the prospect. Caning is now a firm favourite for us both as that boundary shifted over time with experience and confidence, and despite receiving some impressive welts, stripes and bruising thankfully my initial concern has never been realised. I think I appreciated the act and the cane more for understanding its risks.

Cuiplash and I regularly share information, discuss concerns and jointly and individually research and test out toys and activities before we use or do them so we are both involved in understanding and appreciating the risks involved and making an informed decision on how, and to what extent, to proceed together. I enjoy learning alongside him and jointly choosing what will work for us or what he or I would like to try. The final decision, of course, is his and how, when and if I do.

I think it’s important to note that all of these terms are subjective and are open to interpretation and scrutiny. Some are received and accepted more than others and all have their pros and cons. Whether you subscribe to SSC, RACK, CCC or love PRICK like me, I think it’s important to understand what each means to you both and to what extent it applies to and works for your own relationship.

Double edged sword


Cuiplash loves to edge me in a variety of ways. He is very good at using my triggers and his sadistic streak gets off on turning me on whilst simultaneously reducing me to a frustrated mess. He will edge me to the brink of orgasm sexually, often repeatedly, until I can’t take it any longer and he finally permits me to come. He’ll arouse me verbally during play with commands, questions and humiliatingly hot observations. He’ll tap into my psyche and ignite my submissive mindset by messaging me when we’re apart. He will use nips, bites, pinches and scratches to edge me through a day with little flurries of delicious pain that translate in my body as pleasure.

All of this serves to mentally and physically place me exactly where he wants me and I love him putting me there when he does. There’s something about that wanton and needy head space, focused on him and preoccupied with release.

The interesting thing is, Cuiplash sometimes harbours a certain masochism, if you could call it that, and also derives pleasure from edging himself, by using and edging me. A double edging if you like. He’ll fuck me to the verge of his own orgasm and then stop. He’ll use my mouth and direct my hands until he can feel that threshold and then stop. Each time he takes us both to that edge he becomes more primal but will still deny me his cock and his come…until later. He’ll do this during play, and will sometimes enjoys this in the morning before we have to get up and start the business of the day, leaving us both frustratingly stimulated and aching for more of each other.

It is very effective as a mind fuck as it can heighten any other contact through the day for us both. A look, a grip or a message can all take on a further intensity as we connect back to what nearly was, but wasn’t quite. And of what is still to come later. Including us!

Yoga tears


I recently started a beginners yoga class, despite not being a beginner. Many years ago I practiced Ashtanga yoga and I loved the experience of the mindful connection between breath and body and building strength and appreciation in myself as a result. My body now is much older, stiffer and a lot more creaky so it was with some trepidation I decided to start it over again.

Part of my decision was also rooted in an increased awareness or need to prioritise myself. To make time in my week to just be me, and be with me. To let go of all the responsibilities of organising and caring for other people and take the time to give to myself, in order to nurture my physical and emotional well-being.

So I was more than a little surprised when, lying in Savasana at the end of an hour of Vinyasa practice I started to cry. I’m definitely one to be emotional, especially lately, but I’m definitely not one to openly cry in public. So there I am, lying flat under a cosy blanket, my head on a soft pillow, the room dimmed and silent except for slight shuffling from the other ladies, some beautiful relaxation music and the voice of my instructor leading us through the final relaxation sequence.

Thank yourself for taking the time to come to yoga tonight,” she said “thank yourself for looking after yourself.” As I internally said thank you tears immediately sprung into my eyes. I tried to breathe as steadily as I could and not let them spill past my closed lids so no-one would notice. Embarrassed and ashamed about this sudden and unexpected flood of feeling. I don’t think anyone noticed and I managed to wipe them away before sitting up again.

In my pieces Parts and Can your inner child come out and play? I wrote about my inner me, the much smaller and very vulnerable child version of me and I know that it was here that the internal thank you and the tears originated. Without sounding too weird, she felt seen and honoured, and she thanked me for that. By taking the time to do something for myself, to meet a personal need and focus on my body and breath I cared for all of me. Not just the outer functional, driven part but the deep sensitive and often neglected part.

Clinical psychologist and registered yoga teacher Melody Moore, Ph.D., says that it is common. “The body remembers everything and holds unprocessed tension.” “When we move our bodies and breathe, it gives us an opportunity to work out that tension. As it releases, so too does the emotional story or baggage.”

Yoga is also a time to get out of our heads and “drop down into our bodies,” says licensed psychotherapist Mariana Caplan, Ph.D., author of Yoga and Psyche. “The body contains the memory of the whole life we have lived,” so many emotions—sadness, fear, anger, arousal—can pop up in class when you’re not as focused on your day to day demands, she explains.

It helped to read these testimonies and to know that it is totally normal. This is something I know I can also experience during intense play with Cuiplash, particularly if the intention is there to break me down and create catharsis. I can see the similarities and how it makes sense that in stopping being ‘busy’ with the daily demands, and in having my mind quietened by just breathing and experiencing my body I can open and create the space for emotions, and tears, to rise and be processed.

It was quite a profound experience, although surprising, and confirms that I am on the right path. I’ll just pack tissues next week, as well as ask Cuiplash for some more therapeutic spankings when I need them…

Talisman – D/s tools


In my previous post, Emotional safe word – D/s tools I wrote about why and how Cuiplash and I use a verbal, non play related safe word in our D/s as one method to communicate emotional needs. In this post I want to expand on another communication tool we put in place, my talisman pendant.

A talisman, traditionally, is an object believed to bring the owner good fortune and protection. To some extent it provides both but we’re less concerned with the tradition, and more focused on the visual signal and intention behind wearing it and how it works for us.

Despite how effective it has been to introduce an emotional safe word to our communication tool box, we have found that there are still times where I find even using that too difficult. I have a real issue with verbalising my emotional state and needs for a number of reasons, despite knowing that Cuiplash is nothing less than loving and accepting of me, always. Cuiplash and I spoke at length about what could also work for us both as an additional tool and we came up with the idea of a visual signal, for when verbalising feels hard for me and I can’t, for whatever reason, just express this part of me outright or use my emotional safe word.

Again, Cuiplash set me the task of choosing something. It had to be something that he could easily see and something with meaning. I had a look through my existing jewellery and found this tiny silver rabbit that Cuiplash had bought me a few years ago. If you follow my blog you’ll know how symbolic and precious rabbits are to me, as covered in my post Why Kisungura? and I knew this would be perfect. It hangs on a rabbit sculpture in our bedroom and if or when I feel the need to wear it I can replace my day collar with it.

It’s probably important to note that this, for us, is a tool to instigate communication and not a replacement for talking. It is simply a no pressure starting point that opens the door. We would absolutely still sit down together when alone and talk through, in detail, whatever it is that has come up. What it does, however, is develop my ability and confidence in expressing my needs whilst taking pressure off Cuiplash to second guess how I am. It easily yet effectively allows me to take responsibility for my feelings and take action instead of bottling things up and assuming he can mind read. It is another way to honour our agreement to stay open and honest and to respect the rule I have about always being truthful about my emotions and needs.

Until I can overcome my challenges in easily expressing and validating my own emotions and needs as and when I need to, we have found that these two methods are good starting points that help open the door to the deeper conversations about us and how we are doing that take place. As long as we keep communication to the fore it doesn’t really matter so much to us how it comes about, just so long as it does.

Emotional safe word – D/s tools

2DF3A78F-081D-4FF4-A976-79F07B89EB9FCommunication is frequently held up as a key cornerstone of D/s, and rightly so. Communication in any relationship is incredibly important to enable expression and understanding of thoughts, ideas, opinions and emotions. I’ve not read, however, much of how to do this within a D/s relationship beyond just sitting down and talking. Sounds so easy right? Sometimes it’s not though.

Communication of my feelings, needs and emotions is something I’m pretty piss poor at. With anything else, I’m confident, open and outspoken, but this? No. I gag myself and hide them behind a protective front. I’ve realised recently with increased clarity why that is, and yet again it’s rooted in my past. When the years of chaos and drug use and violence were occurring, and even afterwards, not once was I asked how I was feeling by any adult or friend in my life. Not once was I asked if I was ok. That sends a pretty powerful message to a child, as it did to me, that these were not things we spoke about, these were not things we asked for help with. That my feelings and needs did not matter. That these are things we keep hidden and these are things we do not burden others with. That these are things we manage by ourselves.

I’ve mentioned in previous writings that Cuiplash and I introduced the use of an emotional safe word in our D/s to give me an additional communication tool because I’m so bad at emotionally focused communication. He recently used a bad driver analogy, comparing me to a driver going along and then suddenly swerving or pulling in without signalling or indicating my need to first, leaving him and others wondering why. This made me laugh at the time, as it’s true. I fail to communicate what’s going on in my head and heart and whilst it’s often very busy in there, outward appearances would suggest otherwise until I suddenly take a sharp corner, and occasionally crash the car.

Whilst Cuiplash and I made and still make relatively good use of daily check ins and weekly ‘downtime’ talks focusing on us and our D/s, I find I need the opportunity to be asked, rather than offer, how I am feeling in myself. We’d often go off track earlier in our D/s as Cuiplash is not a mind reader, as much as I’d like him to be, and he’d either be unaware I was wrestling with something or he’d give me space which ultimately emotionally triggered me into feeling a bit abandoned and unseen, a negative neural route right back to when I was little.

Three things had to happen to improve this repeat pattern. One, I had to take more responsibility in expressing my feelings rather than waiting to be sat down and have them drawn out of me by him. Two, we had to find a manageable way to do this. Three, I had to practice this.

Together we came up with the idea of an emotional safe word that I can use at any time to signal to him verbally or online that I am struggling with something and that I need to talk when we can be alone. He set me that task of choosing the word and it had to have meaning. I chose riptide as my emotional safe word as I always go back to water as my source of peace. It also describes effectively the sensation of being pulled out and away and of being overwhelmed.

I’ve still to practice using this more, as sometimes even that can feel too hard. I’m honestly THAT bad so we also introduced a visual signal I can use to communicate my need that I will write more about in another post. When I have used this communication tool it has been really effective as it builds those lost skills and confidence in me and takes the pressure off him to second guess.

I think, no matter how good you are at communicating in general, expressing difficult feelings and deep needs can often be more challenging for many reasons around vulnerability, shame, embarrassment and fear of judgement or appearing silly. I think that no matter what tools you use to enable it to happen as often and as easily as you can within your relationship, of any or no dynamic, it’s only going to strengthen it.

So, my lovely readers, what communication tools do you use that work well, beyond a simple ‘let’s talk’?

My relationship with pain


My relationship with pain is a long and complicated one. One I’ve only fairly recently come to terms with and accepted within myself.

I started hurting myself when I was around 10 years old, past most of the traumatic events of my childhood but a few years short of being out of the woods yet regarding my father’s unstable and violent behaviours. I remember becoming engrossed in picking the backs of my arms and legs, feeling for bumps and tiny imperfections that had to be removed. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I learned that this obsessive form of self grooming is a type of stress response that becomes a default self soothing behaviour in response to trauma.

When I was 14 I pulled out my first head hair. Trichotillomania joined the dermatillomania as my main body focused repetitive behaviours that allowed me to inflict tiny calming repetitive pains upon my body. I’d say that I’m lucky that neither resulted in significant hair loss or skin damage, however, I’ll admit these are unhelpful habits that I still struggle with particularly when stressed.

As an adult I sustained a couple of significant injuries to my hip and rotator cuff shoulder cartilage as a result of bad falls I experienced whilst taking part in sports I enjoyed. Neither of these injuries were ever properly treated and I live with chronic pain and discomfort as a result. This tends to be on a sliding scale of being unaware until I direct my attention there to constant pain exarcerbated by movement and requiring pain medication. I should really seek surgery but one, I’m scared of the risk and two, rehabilitation.

Emotional pain is a big one for me. You’ll know from my writings that earlier this year I was finally diagnosed with Complex PTSD as a result of the shit show that was my childhood. I’ve lived my whole life managing and masking difficult anxiety and depression symptoms to a greater or lesser extent whilst still being functional in all regards. Recently I’ve been learning about the reasons why, and  developing additional awareness of hypervigilance, painful emotional triggering, self worth and attachment based symptoms that I experience too as a result of my experiences. These will take time to heal from and I know I’ve still a long way to go, but I’m on it.

I never chose any of those pains, and at times I can feel helpless in their grip. I can only choose how to manage them, hide them, accept them and heal them. When Cuiplash and I started to introduce power exchange and BDSM into the bedroom, however, a world of pain I could actually choose opened up.

We’d spent roughly two or three years drifting and surviving the sleep deprivation of our youngest, non sleeping child. When things in that regard settled down and we once again had the energy to reconnect our desire was different. More focused, clearer and with an edge. I wanted him to take full control, I needed it more than before and more extreme than before. I’d say I had always been submissive in the bedroom but my fantasies now were around CNC, being overpowered, restrained, taken and made to hurt for him.

I wrestled with this desire for a long time. How could I even begin to want this in my relationship? How could I have witnessed and experienced the violence between my mother and father and actually want to be spanked, held down…and more? I thought there was something wrong with me. But my curiosity and my need to relinquish myself to him eventually won.

The first time Cuiplash bare hand spanked me, not just a couple of half assed arse pats but a proper hard, cheek reddening, squirming, gasping, heat inducing OTK spanking was an epiphany moment for us both. THIS was amazing pain, this was arousing, exhilarating, exciting pain full of passion, need and release. I was soaked, he was hard. We looked at each other with new eyes and laughed. This was the beginning of our acceptance and exploration into our S&M within our D/s.

We took our time, although it’s fair to say that a ready supply of Dom and sub frenzy fuelled the fires for the first year or two, consuming us with a want to do all the things and try all the things. And all the things hurt and I bloody loved it. And all the things hurt and he bloody loved dishing it out. And we still do. We feel lucky that, unawares to each other up until that point, we did not know how well we fitted regarding pain play. How well my masochism danced with his sadism, built on a growing foundation of D/s and our inherent trust, respect, communication and love.

We’ve continued to push our boundaries, learn new things, explore new situations and toys and understand our desires and reactions. Things that were initially hard limits, such as caning, I now ask for and accept willingly. I’ve found pain play to be a tremendous source of arousal, having experienced ‘paingasms’ through impact. Sexual pain turns me on, whether biting, pinching, scratching, pulling, nipping, impact or restraint. Cuiplash will sometimes purposely edge me with small acts of pain play through the day as he knows the effect it has on me, and he gets off on it too.

Consensual pain also provides a rich source of centering energy for us both. It can provide me with emotional catharsis and a positive way to purge difficult feelings. It overrides the chronic pain in such a way that I’m discomfort free for a couple of days after an intense scene. It also creates opportunity for fun and laughter as at times, particularly during public play, I usually end up a giggling mess. It focuses my attention and nurtures a deep trust and connection for us both, pulling us together in a different way. It brings mindfulness and appreciation to my breath and body and will, more often than not, induce the addictive and wonderful experience of subspace. I embrace my love of pain now, accepting my needs, and his.