The Spinster's Exploits

Erotic Ambivalence- Those ‘Oof’ Moments…

23rd Sep 2025

This is something I wrote a few decades back, in my first proper spanking relationship. It expresses my surprise that a mild spanking can be a directly erotic experience in itself – something I’d not expected and hadn’t considered before being on the receiving end of such attention.

I am across his lap, having my bottom spanked. I’ve not been ‘naughty’ and I am not being punished, but I am in his power (as he is in mine, but that’s not the issue here).

As we kissed and touched we both knew I needed to be over his lap. Sometimes I do so compliantly and sometimes I put up a token resistance, but once in place we both know I am staying over his knee. The caresses, memories and our desires keep me there. I am supported by the sofa so all my concentration is on what is happening to my bottom – no distraction of balance or holding a position, just me presented to him for the first spanking of this time together.

I love the feel of the erotic and exploratory strokes over my skirt becoming slaps, building in their insistence so gradually I find myself being spanked. I feel entirely in his power and at his mercy, but feel nothing but arousal across his lap. Sometimes I receive the delicious slaps silently and still and sometimes with a moan and wiggle, teasing him, aware of my movement across his groin as I eagerly seek the next spank.

And as the spanks get harder I start to feel the pain and my movements across his constraining jeans are not quite so deliberate as I can’t help but try to avoid the more insistent spanks. An unexpected hard slap of my smoothly skirted behind has me yelling out in surprise and a sudden tattoo has me laughing, swearing and protesting at the same time. He laughs too, but doesn’t let up; simply holds me firmly as he reaches for the hairbrush and continues the onslaught on my now smarting bottom as I lie there in pain and erotic confusion.

The smacks of the wooden hairbrush build fresh fires, but slow burning and I find myself welcoming the glow in my bottom and deeper inside. Again I am moaning and welcoming, but know that I will always get the smack that sends me into ambivalence – the pain that makes me protest, while welcoming his power and the need for him to deliver it – the ‘oof’ of surprise, confusion, desire, resistance and welcome as I am propelled down by the spank and can’t help inviting the next.

And as I move from ambivalence to struggle despite myself, there is a pause. And I know he is about to raise my skirt… Although and because I know I will be spanked harder I reach another plateau of ambivalence as my pleasure in his arousal and mine wars with my anxiety about the harder spanking I am to receive.

I recall with pleasure the thought I put into dressing for him and savour the enjoyment he will get as he slides up then carefully folds back my skirt and takes in the dark stockings and carefully chosen knickers and suspender belt.

As he strokes me over my cream, silk French knickers, I know he is looking down my stocking-clad legs and my saucy brown ankle boots, admiring the slim, high heels and the outrageous sight I am across his lap with my skirt up.

The effect of my ample bottom and its elevation over his thighs has tightened the silk and as he strokes me I know my knickers have tightened and risen over my vulnerably awaiting behind. I sense him looking as he strokes me and comments on how red I am already and I know he can see so much of my bottom despite my knickers’ thin protection. And as he strokes, his fingers slide under my knickers as he chooses to expose or cover my lower cheeks at his whim while he admires his handiwork. And I want this sexy respite to continue forever as he admires, enjoys and savours what he has done and gives me such pleasure with his touch. And we both know that the pleasure is also knowing that he intends to spank me so much more. And as I want him to continue like this forever, I am remembering the spanking I have just received and all the others and imagining those to come. I am longing to feel his hand more harshly across my thinly covered flesh, while anxious that already he has made my flesh sing and we both know he has hardly started.

And once again the first spanks are more like caresses, except on my sensitised flesh they cause me to wince as well as welcome. I am unaware of the scant protection afforded me by the thin silk and know that keeping my knickers for now is about our pleasure at the contrasts of my unveiling and the delayed eroticism of the moment he chooses to fully expose my well-spanked bottom for the final part of my first spanking of the day.

Despite the winces, the spanks are still welcome as he plays my desire, anxiety and ambivalence with firm slaps over and around my knickers and I relive and imagine what is to come. The pauses and rearrangement of the thin silk prolong my confused thoughts and emotions as I wonder whether I desire spanks or caresses more. The reverie is shaken as once again I feel the smooth wood placed on my upturned bottom and know that the heat is about to be turned up in his actions and across my flesh.

The sharp tattoo of the hairbrush in its sets of three across my now burning bottom has me once more struggling as my body automatically resists while I revel in his pleasure and determination.

And in the pause I recover, knowing there is more to come; once again needing the respite but already imagining him lowering my knickers…

And as I lie there acquiescent, I am torn between the need for the spanking to continue and the desire for more conventional attention. But despite the tenderness and apprehension I have a need to have my knickers lowered and feel my lover spank my bare bottom. I moan to myself as he thoughtfully caresses the bottom he tells me is so red. And I feel myself melt although I can’t help a token protest as he carefully peels down my knickers as I so helpfully raise myself enough for him to slide them to my thighs.

I lie there in pleasure knowing what a lascivious sight I am presenting over my lover’s lap, with knickers around my stockinged thighs, my reddened and spanked bum framed by my stocking tops and suspender straps.

I relive the moment of his taking down my knickers as I so often do – that moment of emotional and erotic melt-down, acceptance, trust and love, but am aware of the hand on my now fully bared bottom and know I am to be spanked more.

And much as I enjoy those moments of hastily pulled down drawers for a quick, hard smacked bottom I revel in this slow sensuous build up to my first bare bottomed spanking of this time together with the hours stretching ahead of us.

He knows how tender and apprehensive I am and the first spanks are almost caresses…but not quite. I am now too tender not to feel the pain of his firm, but measured slaps of my exposed behind. But the pain is just enough to sharpen my arousal and the eroticism of being across my lover’s lap with knickers down and having my bare bottom spanked.

And as always the spanking increases in severity until I feel I can take no more. And as I start to fight him I am informed I am to receive my final twelve…

And as always I accept the final spanking I am sure I don’t want and can’t take but know I need. It is always harsh enough to be feared, but never more than I can bear. And as I count down in my head I love and hate the sting of his hand, knowing the pleasure its execution and memory delivers.

And once again I am in his arms, overcome with desire and eager for distraction of his hands and lips, heightened only by the knowledge of the spanking I have taken and his plans for my now warmed-up flesh. As usual my knickers have thoughtfully been replaced. And as he gives me the attention I crave he tells me how red is my bottom and how many more strokes I am to take. I shiver in his arms as he thinks through the merits of paddle, ruler, belt or slipper and always the cane. As I protest hollowly we are already imagining me bent over table or chair, once again with the raising of my skirt and the lowering of my knickers to come.
Battle of the Sockses

23rd Sep 2025

So – this switching lark is great fun, but he IS competitive and gets to read what I write as well. Shoulldn’t REALLY be a problem as we’re both mature adults and not at all petty… What can possibly go wrong?

As he was seeing his Dominatrix on Monday it was to be a porcelain visit with me leaving no marks on his lovely body – not fair for his Mistress to have a spoilt canvas. And he’d had a week away from home and some hard outdoor work in atrocious weather, plus had little time at home recently. So I was only getting about 24 hours and thought I should make his stay as relaxed as possible and we could just go with the flow.

I did come up with the brilliant idea of ‘Ty Ymlacio’ – House of Relaxation – to set the vibe. And decided my very bad-taste, cheap French Maid’s outfit would amuse and set the tone. It seemed to work! And definitely put him in Dom mode which he appeared to find relaxing – more anon.

All was going swimmingly and we both seemed to be having fun when he decided I should undress him – and then the dreaded words – I was to take off his trousers before his socks! And he knew I would hate it. And he knew I’d comply. And I did. Outwardly I was very compliant and did exactly as I was told, other than the muttered “Bastard!” as I slipped down the jeans, which neither of us openly acknowledged but the contained giggles caused much shoulder-shaking although nothing further was said.

When I ordered him to strip for me the first time, the socks first rule was implemented. I KNOW it’s illogical and a faff – much easier to take off trousers first – but I don’t like trouserless men in socks. And if I’m in charge – then obviously my rules. So the disadvantage – or fun? – of switching, is of course the times of “his” rules!

Luckily he’s not a complete animal – and didn’t insist on hanging on to his socks!

And after he left I finally had a day warm enough to bask in my conservatory, but my feet were a little chilly, so sent a pic of my near-nakedness finished off with the most unbecoming bed socks!

Such mature adults…
Domme-ing it up Part 2

17th Sep 2025

So – as usual when planning on wearing lingerie – I turned into a cross-dressing hooker drag queen! Today’s choice was a rather lovely black and green brocade corset with a very handy zip as well as lacing. I actually have a corset I’ve had for ages but not yet worn because I haven’t worked out how to do it without a maidservant or other helper. I can successfully zip into this one, however, and it does work rather well with boobs of about 44 inches if one is not going for understatement or decorum! A black suspender belt and sheer black stockings with lacy black knickers worked well and for fun I added a short black layered net petticoat trimmed with red. And I recently discovered some rather nice pewter coloured strappy stilettoes that are quite high, but I can manage without the aid of a team of Sherpas!

He was very punctual and thoughtfully let me know he was enroute, so I decided to lounge around in my glad rags and allow him to let himself in. And as usual my inner hostess with the mostest kicked in and I asked if he needed a cuppa and he said yes. I was about to make it, when I metaphorically took myself in hand and ordered HIM to make the tea after losing his clothes. And I was terribly impressed that he remembered to take off the socks to spare me the offence of a trouser-less man in socks – good to have standards.

Well, Reader – it was not entirely successful. Once again, he forgot my sweeteners, and several hours later I discovered the milk on the counter rather than back in the fridge. Never-the-less – once sweetened it was an excellent cuppa and a civilised start to our time together. I enjoyed sitting around in my finery with him naked and decided it was time he got some attention.

I had an array of implements ready and rather liked the idea of having him across my lap – that just felt very right for a domestic discipline scenario and gave me ample opportunity to play with his cock, balls, bum and back. And it was lovely. I rearranged him, so his erect cock was between his body, and my net covered lap as I gently stroked his naked flesh, which he seemed to enjoy.

I was however keen to play with my paddles and brushes which would save me from sore palms! Once again, the leather paddle and trusty, thuddy bath brush soon had him a lovely shade of red. And I was concerned that the hairbrush might be a bit lightweight. I know from personal experience that with a light touch it can be very erotic and wasn’t sure I could give it enough heft to bring pain as well as pleasure, so I went for it and hoped I wouldn’t break it.

It would seem that with a bit of effort the humble hairbrush can have an impact – especially when it follows a good beating with a bath brush and leather paddle! He was a lovely shade of red as I ordered him upstairs to continue the beating. I was able to successfully sashay up the stairs in my heels, following his lovely glowing bum and admired my handiwork.

Upstairs, I ordered him over the cushion and had my first go of executing some bondage-lite. We had some silky ties he’d used on me that I’d kept attached to the bedframe. I used them to tie him spread-eagled over the cushion. It was a surprisingly enjoyable sight seeing him arranged for my attention like this and I couldn’t resist trying out the various canes and the hand-gathered bamboo across his well-reddened arse. I decided to give it some welly as they say, after ensuring he’d tell me if it got too much. Despite my L-plates, I did seem to make an impression and loved the fact I got some non-verbal and verbal responses to my enthusiastic ministrations. It was extremely exciting beating him – so much so that I decided I was now in need of attention, so freed him to pander to me.

He was under strict instructions that it was to be all about me. And he followed the instructions beautifully. I wanted to stay in some of my regalia so decided to have him remove the petticoat and loosen the corset which he did. And at my command he gave my freshly loosened breasts the devotion and attention they craved while I basked in the pleasure.

And of course that wonderful tongue and those clever lips needed further testing as I ordered him to move aside my knickers and lick my fanny. And once again he proved his skills while – like Meatloaf – I was dying just to ask for a taste – so I did. There is something wildly hot and horny about tasting yourself on a man’s tongue, mouth and face…

And I then become an unreliable narrator as I dissolve into a kaleidoscope of experience, sensation and fractured memories…

At some point I demanded a very hard cold caning to stop at my say-so. I couldn’t take more than a few, but then was ready for a second brief set and my stinging bottom, and aroused breasts and fanny merged into an eroticised mess, so I demanded the loss of shoes and knickers. The zipless-fuck it was not! He managed the shoes beautifully, but I ended up with my suspender belt pulled down on one side with my knickers entangled, along with a partially unhitched stocking! Luckily he doesn’t aspire to be a Cissy Maid and I managed to regain the suspender belt and re-attach the stocking while he succeeded at removing my knickers amidst exasperated instructions and much laughter.

I am sure that his lovely cock, my trusty bullet vibe and a vibe I got him as a surprise present all contributed to the pleasure that followed, but it is all a bit of a blur. He managed to get me out of the corset with no further mishap – thank heavens for zips!

His present was a hit – he’d liked mine, so only fair that he got his own. A bullet vibe proved to be great fun for teasing his cock, balls and bum – except with a multi-speed its easy to accidentally push the button and like Christmas lights, you have to rotate through all ten settings to get back to where you were! I decided he could take it home and I’d buy a single-speed for my future use on him.

I am definitely enjoying playing with our switchy selves, and – as said – amazed at how much I am enjoying my lovely new Domestic Domme and subby aspects alongside the return of my well-established spankee and sensualist self!
Domme-ing it up – The Lead-up….

15th Sep 2025

Well – we had nearly a fortnight apart and I was missing him…

I had decided it was about time I gave my nascent Domme the opportunity to spread her wings. As said previously – something I thought of as a quid pro quo and “thank you” for his generosity in spanking and beating me(!) – had proved far more fun than I expected. I was having a lovely time having amazing sex and fucking; being spanked and beaten; discovering my inner sub – and now my inner Domme! Who knew being 70 would be so much fun?!

So – I’d had a couple of weeks thinking about stuff to do to him – and thought a bit of teasing amidst the beating would be appropriate – especially as I’m strictly a new Domestic Domme and not a Dominatrix and my sadism is very limited. Luckily for him he also has a Dominatrix who is more than happy to take him to his limits and give him a fantastic time getting there.

And unexpectedly – thinking about the teasing and how to beat him, and wondering about some bondage-lite and how successful he’d been as a sex-slave became very… hot. And I found myself scratching the itch with my trusty vibe while thinking about what I would do to him. My very first Domme wank and fantasy – and there was me thinking I was having a planning session!

Now as a feminist, I am loath to tar all women with the same shopping brush, but a man who can appreciate a suspender belt and stockings and my love of lingerie brought out my inner shopaholic. I have an impressive array of stockings and suspenders and some fun tat and nice lingerie but I was overwhelmed by a need for some more corsets – so Domme – so sub – so sexy! And I am a victim of the instant gratification of next day delivery and endless choice of online shopping, so I suddenly became owner of some new corsets; a bullet vibe for him – he does respond well to mine; some lemon pepper and some bouquet garni’ The last two are not part of a new kink – just a reflection on the limits of my local shops!

So the planning was all done, the costume decided and all I had to do was get ready and wait for his arrival…
Bedtime Bible Study

15th Sep 2025

So after a fortnight apart after our lovely week together, my lover and I are kept up past my bedtime studying the Bible! And being a modern-ish pair of pensioners, he’s scrolling his phone and I’m looking for Isaiah in my 1960s Catholic Truth Society Bible.

The reason? Where exactly did the story of Lucifer’s fall come from? Several decades back I read Genesis – as one does – and realised there is no mention of this amazing tale I was taught at school and Sundayschool. And – with a different Christian background and Sundayschool attendance – my lover knew Lucifer’s tale just as well. So where is it?

The answer – well the Devil’s name and a figure cast down anyway – is to be found in Isaiah 14:12: “How you are fallen from Heaven, O Lucifer, Son of the Morning! How you are cut down to the ground, you who defeated the nations!”

And I’ve since discovered that the stuff about Michael and his angels is in Revelations12:7-9 and revelations 9;1 describes a fallen star given the key to the “pit of the Abyss” – curiosity satisfied!

So why the curiosity? After a fairly debauched afternoon and a civilised dinner I seduced him with the wonderful “Lucifer” and he was hooked so we watched the first three episodes and wondered again about Lucfer’s backstory.

Did I mention we did have a little debauchery before dinner?
Nudity, relationships, telescopes and all that…

7th Sep 2025

Well – we survived our three days of naturism and – with a weekend either side – a week of togetherness as a polyamorous-friends-with-benefits-who-are sort-of-dating couple! The longest we’ve been together since we met four months ago.

We absolutely loved the naturist experience and are really keen to repeat it. We have found another place where one can book for a week. We’d not gone there as a three-day stay seemed a better intro, but the three days ended too quickly – especially for him. Being somewhat impulsive and eager I was all for booking late September and hoping for an Indian Summer. He was more practical and suggested late Spring.

The other site looked amazing – clothing optional rather than full-on naturist, but the cabins sounded perfect and lots more amenities and a huge nature-filled site… He got very excited about bird-watching so will be taking binoculars and setting up his telescope. I was thinking star-gazing, and when he said for the birds, wondered which ones were around at night. For some reason, using a telescope in the daylight hadn’t occurred to me…And, being a very sophisticated and proper grown-up of 70-and-a-half I was convulsed at the thought of a naturist with a telescope and binoculars inside a “nudist camp”! It’s all those awful seaside postcards I found hilarious in my youth – often featuring nudist camps and fully-dressed voyeurs on the outside trying to get a peek inside…

We did manage some sex and play before, during and after our naturist break. Before going away we had a walk on an amazingly hot day and discovered clumps of naturalised bamboo along a riverbank. Now I still have the message “bamboo bad, rattan good”built into my spanky self – see my earlier post on this: https://spinstersexploits.blog/2025/07/10/of-canes-and-anoraks/

But what about fresh bamboo? It seemed rather springy and interesting… So in the name of research we managed to harvest some of different lengths and widths – the things we’re prepared to do for science! The day got hotter and we practically crawled home and left our experiment.

And another experiment carried out in the name of dodgy science – Was there enough pliability in my trusty Ann Summers cane and my newish dowel/horse-training dodgy cane to fit into my modestly sized suitcase to take on our naturist break? It seemed there was. No problem with the paddle, bath brush, hairbrush or ruler though! They did all get used but only on me and in the privacy of our caravan in the bedroom.

And on our return home, he did a sort-of consumer test of our new bamboos on my not-unwilling bottom. And unsurprisingly, the lighter whippier ones felt whippy and cutting and the thicker, heavier ones felt heavy and thuddy! I wasn’t allowed to look, but less of a challenge than our usual ‘guess the instrument’ at which I am usually somewhat rubbish!
From neutral lingerie to naked at the dinner table with five equally naked men…

4th Sep 2025

Well – I have said I saw turning 70 as an exciting time for re-evaluation and new adventures – so here I am…

I have also said that my lover and I felt drawn to naturism and I thought at the grand old age of seventy, this might be an opportunity to challenge my fairly typical body issues – the way I love what my body can do for me and make me feel, but still be horribly self-conscious of my lumps, bumps, dimples and droopy bits…

So – as blogged about earlier – we decided to have a naturist break! As our weird and wonderful relationship is still only a few months old, a three-day break seemed a perfect testing of the waters for us as a semi-detached couple and as would-be naturists.

On the couple front – only one negative incident – me being cross at being neglected – because he was trying to beat me at online Scrabble! We unscrewed our lines of communication and harmony was restored.

So – two pensioner newbies visit a naturist resort – what could go wrong?! Very little it seems…

We were met by our lovely, clothed hostess who gave us the tour pointing out that nakedness was preferred everywhere, but one could protect from the cold. Naked only in the pool and hot tub and no outdoor clothing in the clubhouse, although wraps and dressing gowns were allowed… And the etiquette of towels to sit on for hygiene purposes was reiterated and then we were left to our own devices.

So we went to our caravan and took our clothes off and showed the sophistication of a couple of five-year-olds! So we pulled up our invisible big boy/girl pants, and strolled out with his towel and my wrap with nobody in sight. We reached the clubhouse to read the notices and sign up for dinner and wandered into the lounge to discover a naked young man reading. So my lover and I sat on our towels and wrap respectively and wondered what we’d let ourselves in for.

He wandered off to do something important – can’t remember what – so I found a magazine to read while nekkid as a jaybird. And on his return we discovered the Rummikub, which he’d never played – and started our Rummikub tournament and the nudity ceased to be an issue. We signed up for the hot tub and sauna and had a naked wander and all was fine.

We did wonder about naked dining but he had his towel and I my wrap – which were perfect seat covers for our naked bums! So there was us, mein host, a chap who looked like he’d been a naturist all his life and two other men who’d also arrived that day – one of whom had shared our tour. Our host quickly put us at our ease and we discovered the other two new arrivals were also first-timers – and one lived within seven miles of me!

And soon being the only naked woman sat with five naked men didn’t feel an issue as we chatted and enjoyed our meal. Our hostess as cook was clothed for health and safety reason and joined our merry band to eat. And us newbies all agreed that being naturists felt – natural!

We decided to go for an evening stroll but it had got quite chilly. Note to self for future visits to naturist places – a t-shirt and warm jacket as well as dressing gown are useful garments for the chilly times… I borrowed his t-shirt and he put on a jacket and being bottomless seemed much ruder than nudity, but gave us enough warmth for our walk. And it was absolutely lovely walking through the fields and down to the lake in a state of undress. Very peaceful and – cornily – at one with nature and our surroundings. And as we were on our own, just a little playful groping, but too chilly for anything more.

And it felt very strange to return to our caravan and lounge around naked with lights on and curtains undrawn, but also seemed odd to do otherwise.

We thoroughly enjoyed our first taste of naturism, and like our fellow-newbies were enthusiastic converts.
Reflections on the Sub and Switch ‘Journey’ and Curiosity – Strap in for some rambling navel-gazing! Part 2

23rd Aug 2025

My breasts have always been a source of pleasure for me and I knew that the right attention to them made me very acquiescent to my partner’s whim – whether to spank, beat, pleasure or fuck, I was happily compliant

My first surprise was how somehow that compliance grew and I found myself genuinely willing to make a cuppa when he jokingly asked while playing with my nipples and dissolving me into a mush of desire. He didn’t make a serious request for a drink but I reassured him of my willingness. I pride myself on my good hostess skills, but this was something else.

And then there was the unexpected incident of my gorgeous lover completely taking unplanned and surprising dominion over me with the help of a casually picked up hazel switch and an unexpected command as outlined: https://spinstersexploits.blog/2025/07/14/switchy-shivers/

And once the power was unearthed, it seemed he was able to to simply switch it on when he chose as I thrilled to his unexpected command and found my erotic desire utterly dependent on his whim: https://spinstersexploits.blog/2025/07/15/spicy-vanilla/

So I adore being submissive to him, but it is not an automatic reaction at the very sight of him. He plays with my breasts or issues a command, and if I am in the right frame of mind I become submissive to him. I could refuse to ‘play’ or he could change his mind, or have enough. I have decided it is like hypnotism – both of us have to choose to engage. As new lovers and players, we’ve not refused so far, but – like every activity – there has to be ongoing consent that can always be withdrawn and must be respected.

My submissiveness is very ‘situational’ – for want of a better word and is not an overall desire I feel about him or with him in general. It is something that gets switched on as described and is not the essence of what we have together. I was very surprised at the depth it reaches however, when he recently took control as outlined in my last post. As I wrote: “And my pleasure and joy deepened with my submissive journey as he presented his gorgeous cock for me to suck as I was bent over the chair with my bottom throbbing from the measured thrashing I received. And for the first time I took a man into my mouth with gratitude and as an honour from Him to me rather than as a sexy temptation, a gift from me to him and a desire to please.”

It was an interesting experience, particularly as I had recently explained to a Dom man that oral sex was an area that to me proved my lack of subbiness – as I could not imagine enjoying being told to suck a cock as outlined above. I know that any Dom/me worth their salt ensures that their sub gets what they want and need from the relationship. That means that – depending on level and type of submission and relationship – usually they ensure any agreed sensual and erotic needs of the sub are met. And the Dom/me can also simply be “serviced” and make use of the sub’s services without considering any of the sub’s desires, other than the desire to serve. I think I’ve got that right, but I am an observer with subbie moments and not a sub!

I have truly – hand on heart – never before felt honoured or grateful when sucking a cock – and writing this feels strange, but I absolutely know what I felt. So – I appear to be a sensualist/hedonist spankee with a very powerful sub who can be released at a (literal) stroke in the right place or a command if I choose to let it happen – and as it is so thrilling I cannot imagine not choosing without good reason.

And then there’s my surprisingly eager baby Domestic Domme who we’ve decided has earned her capital D! It would seem he enjoyed me taking control of him and beating him, And – like me ceded control when I stood up to the metaphoric plate. I loved the way he turned the tables on me the first time as Wicked Willie chose to take over. I was determined to keep control the second time and absolutely loved it. Playing with him sexually and teasing him, between beating him was a delight and power trip. I made a conscious decision to keep control and he responded beautifully. My nipples discovered they needn’t be the gateway to submission but could be objects of worship and and domination, as ready for homage as his cock had been when he had dominated me.

My ecstasy at the attention and slippery cunt were ample proof of just how much I enjoyed my trip to SwitchLand. And deciding to get beaten for my own pleasure with absolutely no submission was thrilling as I took charge of the proceedings. And the fucking at my command – subject to a glorious erection and his consent – was utterly fabulous.

Although our Domestic Discipline fun was very different from his experience of full sub-mode with his Dominatrix, he still had a powerful sub experience as he confirmed along with the messages I’d been receiving from his attention-seeking cock!

As he’d been so good at meeting my needs and reminding me how much being a spankee made me complete, I had thought about switching for his pleasure. I am so lucky that I too had an amazing time, and my dormant DD is eager to come out to play!

I know so many absolutely hate labels, but they can be useful. Not sure of mine though… Hedonistic sensualist spankee and switch with strong submissive and developing Domestic Domme tendencies with the right person?
Reflections on the Sub and Switch ‘Journey’ and Curiosity – strap in for some rambling navel-gazing! Part 1

23rd Aug 2025

Don’t you just hate how we’re all on our mythical ‘journeys’ and stepping out of our ‘comfort zones’ as we push ahead with our dancing on ‘Strictly’, walk despite blisters on the latest pilgrimage reality show or brag about our latest beating on a BDSM site? I do! I roll my eyes and sigh at the self-indulgence of it all and am hugely cynical about the televisual appeal of the smashed comfort zone and how we all enjoy a good journey while loving the voyeurism of it all…

So, this is all somewhat embarrassing, but I do want to be as honest as I can be about what is going on in my life as a newly awakened seventy-year-old on an erotic and sensual [cringe-pause] journey after a year’s dormancy.

So I’ll start with the confession. I have been very judgemental – and defensive – about some of the BDSM/erotic journeys I have encountered. I think it was because I felt a whiff of superiority at how they were apparently growing or even self-actualising because they could take a harder beating/had gone from spankee to sub/become swingers/had their first same-sex experience. ‘So what?’ I muttered – ‘you’re just self-indulgent and thrill-seeking’. And they are – but why my prejudice and annoyance? My attitude was that some people just got bored and enjoyed seeing themselves as transgressive or liberated and were merely thrill-seekers looking to liven up their lives and find new highs – the erotic equivalent of a mid-life crisis – very judgy of me!

If we do no harm – why shouldn’t we be self-indulgent thrill-seekers? I think my primary guilt at my politically incorrect fantasies and desires, along with the same guilt about my possible nature had transmuted – I began to see my spankee self as my true nature and part of my essential being. In the words of the great philosopher, Popeye, I told myself I yam what I yam… I got irritated when spankos became more widely BDSM and implied that ‘mere’ spankos were less evolved – and some really did seem to think that – and I internalised and resented the message. It reminded me of recently uncloseted gay friends in the seventies convinced that others were also gay – just not yet acknowledged/come to terms with their true nature. It may well be true of some but never of my very sexually satisfied camp hetero friend. And so with the vanilla/kink/BDSM world. I decided – and still believe – that celibacy/monogamy/spanking/BDSM/vanilla/swinging/whatever – is the source of happiness for many and if they are getting their needs and desires met and have no wish for anything else – they are truly fortunate! But I now also believe that those fancying a comfort-zone-busting journey are equally fortunate if they are in a position to follow their desires.

In my work life I was introduced to the concept of ‘curiosity’ as a fundamental underpinning of so many professional roles. Without it, science, policing, social work, counselling and so much more would fail to discover the things that need addressing and ultimately the workers would fail to carry out their tasks. And in the historic and evolutionary science programmes and articles I love, the idea that it is curiosity that makes us human and underpins our evolutionary leaps and development is central (And – yes – of course many animals are curious and on their own journeys – but that’s another story!)

So, it follows then, that curiosity and seeking new erotic and sensual pleasures is part of the rich tapestry of humanity and being human. And some of us are seekers and some are not – all fair enough.

And reading “The Ethical Slut” reinforced these ideas. Why wouldn’t you maximise pleasure and have fun if you had the opportunities to do so with minimum damage to others?

So – here I am – a sensualist who loves sex and being spanked who’s met a sub man and read “The Ethical Slut”, enjoying a very exciting journey and amazed at the joy and pleasure that I am finding.

As previously noted – my then-future lover presented as a sub man and I as a slightly defensive sensualist and hedonist who liked being spanked but had been living a mainly vanilla – and very enjoyable – life and was really interested in sex. Luckily he liked and was missing sex and intimacy and was quite capable of spanking. We didn’t exchange CVs but he had an ex and they had regularly spanked each other.

And sensuality, intimacy and fun came first for both of us and I had an amazing time with him as we explored spicy vanilla and he got to use my toys on me with increasing effect as I was reminded that I am definitely still a spankee! I was also getting intrigued at possibilities of switching and taking command of him.
Neutral with lingerie, stilettos and a much needed cuppa…

21st Aug 2025

After my amazing experiences with a very successful time dominating my lover with chastisement and glorious sex – plus his choosing to take charge of me for pleasure and pain – it seemed like a good idea to reset the dial to neutral – with added lingerie and see where we’d end up…

I’ve got very excited by the rediscovered fun of lingerie – I love the ritual of getting ready and the joy of his reactions – he is so a man of his era – stockings and suspenders and the rest – bring it on!

As well as getting to air my lovely, cherished items I have been tempted to buy more. My latest was described as a ‘babydoll’ and was a lovely deep green froth of net and lace. It was very cheap in price although not from one of the Chinese sites, but was flimsier and cheaper looking than expected – definitely Chinese but through a third party!

Long story short – ruder and sluttier than it had looked – especially with 44-inch boobs! – but fun and sexy in a tartier way than planned – but no problem! I decided to find out what he thought of it teamed with a lovely red suspender belt, black fishnets and my fabulous red stilettos. I added silky red and black knickers, but decided to underpin with the absurd triangle of green net g-string/thong underneath – the scrap of nonsense arrived with the babydoll garment.

I greeted him at the front door (no neighbours in sight!) in this fabulous ensemble and he was entertained and interested. And being a good hostess – I am sometimes not so, when things heat up quickly – I offered a cuppa after a quick snog on my wobbly heels. I was very proud of finally having greeted him in my towering, sexy shoes. We sat down and joked about the tea as we were both very interested in each other by now, but I reiterated my willingness and he’d had a long journey….

And so I made him and me a cuppa! And although we were – in my head – in neutral in terms of powerplay and I was merely being a good hostess – I was making and serving him tea dressed in tarty underwear and fuck-me shoes… While I would have failed the Playboy bunny dip of serving drinks, I succeeded in making and delivering two cups of tea without damage to tea or either of us!

And we sipped our tea with some decorum as he stroked my fishnetted legs and I admired my discreetly crossed ankles in their lovely strappy heels at rest over his lap. So, I can’t say when we slipped out of neutral but he decided to take charge and he needed to rearrange my furniture – And of course I let him.

It seems he’d been thinking about my bucket seat and it wasn’t in the best position! So he moved it to where he thought best and ordered me onto it, leaning over the back, as we’d both done the week before. And of course I complied. And the initial spanking and rearranging of clothes have disappeared into a sexy haze but I do remember his amusement at the discovery of the g-string and me becoming very aware of the thin ‘t’ of elastic dissecting my exposed bottom seeming even ruder than just my lowered knickers.

And I felt myself glide from spankee to sub when told to stay in position while he went upstairs and I took pleasure in my obedience as he got the instruments of his choice to use on my vulnerable bottom. And I slid further at his satisfied “good girl” on his return.

And once again I disappeared into a sexy kaleidoscope of sensation as I was spanked and beaten and stroked for his and my desire and pleasure but entirely at his whim. And my pleasure and joy deepened with my submissive journey as he presented his gorgeous cock for me to suck as I was bent over the chair with my bottom throbbing from the measured thrashing I received. And for the first time I took a man into my mouth with gratitude and as an honour from Him to me rather than as a sexy temptation, a gift from me to him and a desire to please.

My reverence was somewhat undercut when I began to suspect how hard it was for him to control himself – never mind me! He chose not to come in my mouth as he wanted to fuck me. And he did – and I loved being fucked where I’d been beaten and holding that position over the back of the chair in my absurd finery, with my knickers down and the gstring pulled aside so he could enter me.

And finally a well-deserved siesta where we continued to pleasure each other and rearrange my fabulous Chinese tat and carefully chosen lingerie.

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