Sharing is caring and in case you don’t know by now, I am ready to tell you everything. Hey, if my life makes just one of my readers laugh, then I am happy.
Let me start at the beginning. Once upon a time there was a little girl (that’s me) and she had a fondness for her computer and was logged on to one or two of the dating sites.
Single and fancy-free, this single white almost-female was looking for some man-loving.
Hey, you all do it, so why not we showgirls? She had the prettiest picture she could find loaded onto her profile. And the profile was written something along the lines of this: Part-time lady looking for fun. Live as a man, have fun as a lady. No confusion at all!
Finally I received a message from a gorgeous Canadian gentleman, visiting his parents here for just three weeks: Would you care for a civilised glass of wine and conversation one evening, my beautiful blonde princess? Well, apparently he did like a drink and was quite obviously drunk when he sent me the message.
The first meeting went down a treat, we laughed and chatted for what seemed like hours, so long that I didn’t notice his conversation was leading in the S&M direction.
Coming from a small town in Canada, the young man explained that fetish was very rare over there. Before I knew it I had agreed to go shopping at the local fetish shop to get supplies. I was supposed to be the dom and he was the subbie. Jesus, I didn’t have the heart to say I had no idea what a dom did or what outfit they wore.
The start was easy as I slipped his wrists into the freshly bought cuffs, the hood over his head and zipped his mouth up, all the time trying to be as dominating as possible without laughing.
I kept forgetting to unzip him so he could reply to my questions, so most of the time I was met with a muffled response. He told me he had been very bad and thought I should punish him. I quickly remembered being punished when I was younger but thought that washing up for a week and no TV wasn’t really what he had in mind.
Candles and candle wax were the punishment of choice. I had candles but no way of lighting them. The search became desperate for a lighter. Having been a scout, I decided to use what I had and started to light the candle on the stove.
Don’t try this at home -“ soon the kitchen had filled with smoke and before long all the smoke alarms were screaming at me. And you guessed it, within two minutes while I was bashing the alarm with a broomstick like a crazy woman, the fire brigade arrived.
One truck and four burly firemen all came to the rescue and there I was in a bra, panties and a see-through chemise.
Well, at least I can tick fetish on my r?m?ow, can’t I?