It’s another catch up blog. I don’t think I’ve gone so long without posting, but as said last time around, three were written – it was just that posting them up got somehow de-prioritised.
There is still much to say to bring things up to date, so I shall continue.
Just lately, with such a collection of sex toys, there has been a need to store things away, out of sight and out of mind of everyone bar me in remote storage. As the mood takes me, I have shuttled between one toy or the other, and one chastity device or the other.
Making the move to get something of choice, I have, on occasion, set my mind on my lingerie box, untouched since early January, apart from one momentary glance at the contents within, but no touching, the contents covered anyway, by a glut of packaging from one mail order selection or another.
On more than one occasion, the thought occurred to recover that box, to dress, rediscover, relax, be me, forget the drudgery, trials and tribulations of life at least in part if not whole. But, each time, with a heavy sigh, something motivated me not to, to attend and indulge in the sex toys, the chastity, and the lock up instead because the kink required it.
As I’ve said before, whilst my alter-ego social media profile tends to follow a variety of Mistresses, the temptation to connect more closely with them couldn’t have been further away. Something else I’ve said before is that I’m not into being ‘rinsed’, ‘drained’ – blah, blah, blah. Anything I did of financial investment would be under my terms and with my full consent.
Only, with such sexual euphoria raging through my system and the tendency to indulge in direct messaging, somehow, I allowed myself to respond to one particular person, profile suggesting they were a Mistress from Canada. There was lots of attempted dominance, assertion of so-called authority, emanating from within their input, along with a curiosity to know a little bit more about me. I had somehow allowed myself to become drawn in by their apparent willingness to give me a try out, before any kind of commitment.
There were the most ridiculous suggestions that either they or I could relocate, immediately rebuffed whilst playing along with the game by me adding the word ‘Mistress’ after every response. Nothing was quick enough for them. Considering that I was at work, and by rights shouldn’t have been distracting myself through indulgence in DMs, considering that there are other things in life for absolutely everyone, they were nothing short of the utmost in rudeness by getting narked if I didn’t respond quickly.
I protested the ridiculousness of their approach by stating that I was at work, and, again playing along with the ruse, said that I could hardly serve them if I was no longer working. There were demands for this, that and the other, but also a more concessionary response, on repeated occasions, when I, playing and acting the sub, reminded the alleged Mistress/domme of how they should be acting to keep me ‘on side’.
Discussions led to the offering on their part of a trial service, me having no experience at being an actual paying sub, yet somehow driven to indulge despite my better judgement. Various requests were made for contact via a number of smart phone apps, none of which I could partake in, in order to retain my place deep in the closet.
The alleged Mistress seemed keen to get me on board, yet all along, from my end, things didn’t add up. ‘She’ had an account name bearing no resemblance to ‘her’ profile name, went under a variety of names, one excuse being that it was the name ‘her’ mother gave ‘her’.
Still I persisted with the communications via DM and agreed to ‘tribute’ via a method agreed of gift card. I did a quick conversion of pounds to Canadian dollars and found myself scouring the town for a location at which these cards could be bought. Eventually, I sourced them and provided photographic proof of purchase via DM. Inside, a voice was screaming at me that this was somehow wrong and that I should not be doing it, but the submissive side saw me going through the queue at the checkout, paying for the gift cards and returning to work.
From here, the pressure was duly applied by the alleged Mistress to bloody well get on and scratch the cards off to reveal the redeemable codes, action of which was simply just not quick enough for them. A text tirade then followed including expletives but I told them that I was working as fast as I could, at the day job, at the desk.
Eventually, photographic evidence was sent, including a copy of the receipt. However, alarm bells continued to ring and having dropped all the ‘Mistress’ ending to whatever I said as the frustration began to boil over, I seemed to naturally assume the role of the Domme instead.
The challenge of the account @name was met with a sudden, unannounced change to another. I told them that I had seen this happen, but this was only met with a further change. It mattered little to me – I still wanted to know why the original name, having no resemblance to anything else, had been used. Eventually, it crept out via DM response that it was allegedly the name of their former sub, alluding that they had been so fond of, yet had lost them, so it was the name they had used. Photographic evidence of this sub were also provided.
Naked photographs of a female taken in front of a mirror using a smartphone but covering their modesty, were sent in a futile attempt to try and retain me. Evidence of them quickly giving up also became apparent, but I was not done with them as the tables seemed to have been turned. Frankly, I was not inclined to believe that the photos that had been sent, even though they were the same person in each, were that of the person behind the account. Similarly, the Twitter account had very little actual, if any, self-tweeted content.
This was another question that went unanswered as this person’s profile seemed to be unravelling in front of both of us. An offer was made to change the account @name to one using mine. I said that they may certainly not as my dominance seemed to be overpowering them at almost every turn. “Why didn’t I want to be their sub?’ came the question. I merely said that things didn’t add up, and expressed my utter frustration that they had changed their @name again, adding that they were not helping themselves.
Fury in the form of swear words and angry emojis then followed, and a further declaration, as if it was needed, that I was making them get mad at me. I was not bothered in the slightest. The conversation turned to the question of what had been done with the gift cards, suggesting that the most appropriate course of action would be to tell me whether they had ‘cashed’ them or not, when I had no intention of any form of try out or long-term on-line relationship. I also remonstrated that I had not lowered myself to their level in swearing. Additionally, this person didn’t seem to sleep. They were always on the end of DMs, no matter what time of day, considering the time difference between the UK and Canada.
That was another question that remained unanswered. They asked what I, the apparent sub, wanted them, the apparent domme, to do. I said that the relevant amount in gift cards would be appropriate, or that they could just tell me that they hadn’t cashed them and I would have them for myself.
A flurry of evasive apologies then followed, and a declaration that they, the apparent domme, were not out to waste my (the apparent sub) time. How could I trust them, they asked. They confessed that they had been looking for a good sub for many years and was very sorry, again, questions not being answered.
Ultimately, attempts were made to open dialogue with me again in the following days but I was having none of it. Eventually, a check on the DM thread identified that I had, in fact, been blocked. I duly responded with a retaliatory block and that, was the end of that.
In the meantime, about that thing from my past that made a return…