Truth be told, I’ve never really believed in the concept of coming without being touched. It seems a wonderfully romantic idea, particularly so when embedded into a BDSM story. But it’s a fiction, a sweet and hot idea to get the old masturbatory juices flowing.


It was a lovely scene, delicious from all the denial that had led up to it – denial borne both of purpose as well as life Getting In The Way, as it does sometimes.

Now, with our new arrangement, it’s easier to wait through those times. My boy does so love to be denied. Paradoxically it makes him sweeter and softer and steadier – instead of the anxious, tense, frustrated man I used to know.

I had applied a new delicious twist – a tingly hot cinnamon oil to his cock and balls. Oh how it warmed. Oh how it itched. I could see his need for friction making him vibrate as I teased him.

I edged him five glorious times with the oil reapplied liberally each time.

And then it was time for his reward. I had no intention, after all, of allowing him to come – definitely not so soon, and possibly not at all that day.

I attached two chains together and clipped the end of each to opposite sides of his collar. A set of metal reins. I wanted to ride.

I climbed on the bed. Vikki, as you know if you’ve read through the archives, used to be quite squeamish about having her pussy licked, but no more. I’ve developed – shall we say – a taste for it.

I spread my legs, grabbed the metal reins, and pulled his face to my pussy. I rode him, jerking on his reins over and over again to get the rhythm I wanted.

Soon, when I was getting close, I realized I was hearing noises from him that I’d never heard before. Concerned, I asked if he was okay. He said yes but that he was also getting close.

Worried that he was grinding himself against the bed while sucking on me, I told him to raise up his hips so his cock was getting literally no stimulation at all. My boy obeyed happily, not wanting to disappoint me by coming without permission.

A few minutes later though, when I was incredibly close, I heard the noises. Again. I didn’t have the ability or desire to stop at that point, however.

He came. Cock swinging in the air. While he brought me off.

When the orgasmic dust had cleared I was stunned. He had come without being touched. For the first time ever. For either of us.

He had come from the itch of his cock and the mental fuckery of having his face jerked onto my pussy over and over. He had come from the mindfuck of having reins on him.

It was a shock. And a delight. And enough of both that he didn’t even get in trouble for coming without permission.

So lovely, to still find firsts. And how delicious a first… With such promise for future scenes.



I look at him now, and he blushes. If I tease him about his wants, his desires, his hard cock, his delicious whimpering… He hides. Blushes. Grows shy. Covers his face.

He doesn’t put it on. This is true vulnerability coming to the surface, vulnerability he’s never let me see because he always “had” to be the one in charge. But I see it now.

It’s unbelievably delicious. I wish that I could explain why it’s so delicious. It is shocking, the mental and physical reaction I get when he is embarrassed and turned on and squirmy and soft and demure.

The mental: realization that he’s feeling shy, embarrassed, small, dominated. A burst of happy, followed by excitement, the realization all over again that he’s mine to play with now, mine to fuck with, stretch on a rack of emotional and mental and physical arousal. I grow bigger, mentally, more aware of my role, more aware of the power I wield. And I want it. And want him. All deliciously tangled up together.

The physical: the excitement leads to a jump in my chest as I realize how I’m affecting him. Subtly, my body changes – my gaze even more direct, my shoulders straighter, my body more languorous. I feel like a tiger stretched out, relaxed, but with all the power in the world at my fingertips if I need it. He gets smaller, hunches his shoulders, looks down, and I get that lovely hard aching throb between my thighs. It beats. I hum.

It makes me want to grip the back of his neck and hold him down. Makes me want to soothe him by holding him between my breasts. It makes me want to curl him naked on the bed and come up behind him and cover him with bites, make him moan and whimper and

I like it when he is shy. It is a revelation to me.

what hasn’t changed since switching roles

Since I first tried on the big girl pants, things have actually changed quite a bit, and yet in some ways not at all. I’ve managed to retain quite a bit of “the old me”, so to speak, and used my love and my kink to develop scenes that hit on many of the sweet spots I’ve always had – I’m just not on the receiving end of them. Surprisingly, this is deeply satisfying for me.

  1. Being a smartass: That’s nothing new, and was the same when I was a sub. I’m mouthy and sarcastic. The thinking behind it is different, though. It used to be I would push my partner to lose their shit and dominate all over me. Shove me up against a wall, cover my mouth, shove my panties down, physically take control. I would taunt. And I wanted to be overpowered more than anything. Three months into being a Domme, I’m calmer in scene. My sarcasm and mouth now are used to fuck with my partner’s head. It also helps me to retain control in scene, because it helps me channel the side of me that I need to keep control, especially as we are both learning our new roles, occasionally stumbling across old role habits.
  2. What types of scenes I like: Pound for pound, I still love the mindfuck more than any other kind of domination. That’s still absolutely true now. In fact, it’s a relief to feel mindfuck done right, since the picture I had in my head of how mindfuck would look if done fully – by someone who knows you in and out and isn’t afraid to air out and expose all of your little picadilloes –  is finally now something I get to see. There’s incredible satisfaction in seeing my Darling’s responses, and knowing that my imagination and instincts on what works were and continue to be right.
  3. Tease and denial, baby: I was always about the tease and denial. Teasing in real life, teasing in fiction… it just always worked for me. I used to read T&D erotica and sites back in the day, though there was never much for women. As a result, I used to read and watch T&D even for men, just because it was the tease itself, and the incredible reactions it can engender, that would turn me on. Now that I control the tease, the orgasms, and the level of excitement? Whoo boy. Never more fun than today.
  4. Kissing: It’s just always been unspeakably sexy to me, the meshing of lips, the light licks ad sucks, nibbling on bottom lips. In the first incarnation of my marriage, this wasn’t really something that was on the table. But now that I’m in charge, not only does it happen, but we’ve learned that my Darling actually loves it, lusts for it, whines at being denied it. Yum.
  5. Exhibitionism: I have always been an exhibitionist, thrilled and aroused by the idea of being seen. Public arousal, semi-public acts… delicious. As luck would have it, turns out my Darling is quite an exhibitionist himself. I’ve had great fun milking this kink of ours, arousing us both and allowing me to fuck quite delightfully with his head. [Reminder to self: talk about car games in a future post! What fun!]

That’s not to say that nothing has changed. Obviously, lots has. But it’s reassuring to know that while I’m exploring new sides of myself, there’s familiarity, too. Thanks to Trilobyte for his comment, which inspired this post. More to come!

the thing I’ve been afraid to think

It’s been an exhilarating ride, these past three months, since my Darling and I decided to try and switch roles and for the first time in our lives, step into new pants (or lack thereof, depending).

It has been exhiliarating because it’s been so exciting. Because we have learned so many things about ourselves, and about each other. Because we’ve been trying new things and feeling new things and generally been on an adventure together. While neither of us realized beforehand how exciting it would be, it makes sense in retrospect.

I didn’t just identify as a sub before, despite my love of teasing. I identified as a sub. Like, that was the thing that got me juiced. The thing I looked for in partners or fantasies. The thing that made me feel safe and secure and complete and its distinct lack in the last several years were a BIG part of the reason why I came to struggle so mightily with my marriage. I didn’t ever entertain notions of dominance. From my perspective, I had enough damned dominance every day to fill two people’s lives. I run businesses for a living. Teams of people depend on me. I run our home. I take a primary caregiver role with my stepdaughter. My husband, god love him, often needs my support more than I need his. The last thing in the world I wanted was to take on that responsibility in the bedroom as well. That was supposed to be my place to relax and be taken care of.

But we sat, and we talked, and we decided to try this because nothing else was working any more and we loved each other too much to consider the alternative.

It was clear to me, though, that I was doing this to save my marriage. Not because I was actually dominant.


You see the prevarication, above? You see how desperately I already had all the clues I would ever need and yet still, I had no idea going in?

We played. Over the last twelve weeks or so, I’ve found my feet. Found a way to dominate that feels natural and right to me. Learned about what turns us on, what doesn’t, so many play sessions and teasing sessions and erotic encounters (daily! several times daily sometimes!) that seriously, we may have actually played more and been more intimate in the past twelve weeks than in the past year or two combined. (Yeah, it was that bad.)

But all along I’ve been terrified to admit the full and total truth. Even with all the evidence:

  • how frequently and hard hard hard I get turned on
  • how tender and loving I feel towards my Darling, especially when he is being shy, or submissive, or nervous
  • how intimate and comfortable I feel with his entire body for the first time in our lives, ever: I own every crevice… no spot is unseen, no area untouched
  • how easily we fell into all of this and how natural it has seemed, despite such a tidal change in how we interact
  • how natural and sudden dominant thoughts (totally foreign to me)now crop up within me – ogling thoughts, i-want-to-bite-him thoughts, wanting-to-hurt-him thoughts, wanting-to-fuck-with-his-head-and-get-him-all-aroused thoughts, and more.

I haven’t wanted to admit that maybe I was like this all along. Maybe I was always a Domme, waiting inside for my brain to catch up with what my instincts already knew.

Maybe I spent the last 13 years of my life trying to be a round hole when I was actually a square peg all along.

My Darling and I have circled around this conversation for a while, especially the last two months – wondering if we truly made a complicated mess out of nine entire years together because we were both too blind to see the truth.

But for me the questions are even further reaching: did I not know myself before? What does this mean about the other lovers I took as a sub, who dominated me and taught me about this lifestyle to begin with?

I don’t have all the answers. What I do know is that this is the happiest my Darling and I have ever been. While we still argue, the tension and acrimony and emotionally stunted last several years have, literally, disappeared in just twelve weeks. We love each other more than ever before. We do what feels natural to us – even when what feels natural is decidedly unnatural within the context of our relationship before. We talk more. Trust more. Hold each other and touch more.

For now, he is mine. I am not faking this. I am profoundly moved by this experience, more so every single day.

Perhaps I am, after all, a Domme.


I’ve always believed that everyone’s kink is OK, even if it’s not OK for me. I’d never judge someone (or I’d try really hard not to, at least) on the basis of an element of their kink. Hey, whatever turns you on, so long as it’s consensual, it’s all good.

That said, I’ve never really understood the women’s underwear/women’s clothing aspect of femdom/malesub BDSM. Honestly, it’s one of the biggest things I knew I wouldn’t want. Not because I think less, sexually or emotionally, of people who do it. It’s just:

Look. I’m a feminist. The idea that putting on frilly or pink or satiny clothing or panties makes someone less than, or a sissy, is kind of offensive to me. Because I don’t think being a woman, looking like a woman, feeling like a woman, should ever be something demeaning or less than or in any way embarrassing for anyone because I at my very core do not believe that having female traits is any more embarrassing than having male traits. In other words, why wouldn’t it be ok? 

Luckily, my Darling agrees with me (he’s a feminist too, sort of) and we were both on the same page about wearing frilly underpants being a no in our relationship.

Then, we started playing with butt plugs and learned pretty quickly that actually, those gently sloping silicone things don’t actually stay in your ass very well at all. One or two good squeezes is all it can take to make it shoot out of there like a rocket. I have no idea why no one ever seems to talk about this. But I’m telling you now. All of your fantasies of walking someone around (or being walked, depending on which side of the fence you’re playing on) wearing a butt plug pretty much go up in smoke when confronted with the silicon skinny reality. Even bigger ones? Same thing. Shooty McShooty.


So then: I had to start looking for a new butt plug. One that would stay in. What I wanted was simple. I wanted something with a small base (easy to sit on) but broad enough not to get lost up there. I wanted something with a tiny stem that was easy for anal muscles to cling to. And then a nice deep flare that would seat and stay in. Too much to ask? Nay nay. Unfortunately, the only butt plugs that fit this description come with a crystal at the end, all sparkly and bright.


So on one hand I have the desire to not feminize my sub because in my world that would make him more powerful. You see? And on the other I have a very anal greedy sub who I wanted to walk around in a butt plug without having to strap him in like international luggage.

Needless to say, I bought the plug – with a clear crystal, natch, since it would be more masculine. We tried it for the first time last weekend. And I learned something about sparkly (and by inference, feminine) things.

What if it turns you both on not because it’s bad or less or humiliating, but because it’s pretty and your boy has never in his life had a chance to be pretty?

I was amazed at my reaction to seeing that crystal sparkling in the groove between his butt cheeks. It was pretty. I liked looking at it. And it didn’t make him less of a man to have it there. It made him more of a man.

My man.

See? Learning things.

the cock reflex

For years, I’ve been slow to arouse. Like, it takes a loooong time to get me simmering. Sure, that wasn’t the case before, but I was older, with more responsibility, more stress, a kid in the house – it really didn’t seem like a stretch to imagine that all of these together were affecting my sexuality.

Hrm. Well. Then we switched roles.

And now I can go off like a rocket. Deep, throbbing, lovely feelings down there. But getting used to the whys of these deep throbbing lovelies has meant getting used to a whole new world of me than I’d ever known before.

Things that now make me go off (that never did before):

  • when he looks shy, or embarassed, or blushing. (If he hides his face, look out! Sexual frenzy!)
  • when he moans, of course – but especially when he whimpers with need
  • when he shoves his greedy ass at me when I’m spanking, flogging, or even just touching him
  • when he trembles with need

Suffice it to say that now, I get a rather large number of opportunities in a week to be heavily, deeply aroused. But that’s not all. It’s the new instincts that come with this arousal that are hard to understand and a mindfuck to deal with, especially after 13-odd years of identifying as a sub.

I get… hard. There’s no other way to describe it. It’s like my clit is just bigger now, like a small cock inside of me. And when he’s vulnerable and sweet and stretched on a rack of denial and want and sensation, it…

Well. It makes me want to fuck something. Actually, it makes me want to fuck everything. 

I literally spent the first four weeks we played in these new roles feeling like a dog – that I just wanted and needed to hump up against the world and find something to shove my (and now THERE’s the question, yes? what the hell would I shove?) something into something. I honestly don’t believe I’ve been so turned on in my entire life as I have been the past 2.5 months while my Darling and I have been learning about these new roles.

I’ve begun to call it my cock reflex, because that’s really what it feels like. As though my entire life I’ve never understood how men felt, wanting to grab things and stick their cocks into them, hump up against things, and generally just thrust with their hips to soothe the unbearable sodding ache. Until now.

I’m even different now when his face is buried between my legs. (Yes, folks, since Vikki left you last, she actually learned to appreciate, enjoy and even come from cunnilingus. See the history.) Before I would screw my eyes shut and focus on the sensation and eventually, slowly, get over my shit enough to come. The idea of grabbing his hair or head was anathema to me, and something I only did occasionally, lightly, because I knew it turned him on.

[Aside: as I tell more of our stories from our past, like the one above about me grabbing his head turning him on, you’ll begin to untangle and unravel, as we are, the reality that there were hints all along. But I digress.]

Fast forward to now. I grab his head, his hair, but my favorite is to grab two hanks of hair or his head above his ears on both sides and move his lips up and down my clit until it feels like the world’s smallest blowjob. Sweeeejesus. I could fuck that face into infinity.

The natural extension of this, of course, is for me to get a cock of my very own to wear and fuck things with. But that’s a story for another day.

the first time I used a flogger

I have always loved my flogger. Purchased years ago from quality leather retailer Northbound, it has a lovely solid feeling braided leather shaft and long strands of suede-backed leather. I bought it myself, as I bought so many of our sex toys, because I wanted the toys to only be used on me, to stay with me if I got a new partner. But also it was because they were lovely and well made and it turned me on to touch them, to own them.

It’s moments like that when I think back through my reasoning that I wonder if I was just a domme all along. What sub buys their own paddles and floggers and cuffs? Moreover, what Dom agrees to use someone else’s toys? Was I fooling myself all this time?

It was about two months ago that, for the first time in the eight years since I bought it, I used the flogger on someone else for the first time.

I was a little scared. Not that I’d hurt my Darling, because the flogger is lovely and thuddy but really shouldn’t hurt as long as I was light about it. But I didn’t know how to swing it. And I never believed I had very good aim, either – I had visions of Rose from Titanic aiming the ax once and then trying to line up for the exact same shot, and missing by a mile.

When it came time to swing, I messed up the first few shots, landing imperfectly. then I caught a rhythm. And so did my Darling.

Learning about Vikki moment #1: I loved it. It was deeply satisfying physically to swing the flogger. Deeply satisfying to land it on a sweet pair of ass cheeks. To feel the swish. To hear the thud. To watch my lover push his ass up for more.

When I was done, my pussy was soaked.

Every time I’ve swung it since that first scene, it’s been more deeply satisfying than before. More arousing. I will talk soon about this odd cock reflex I’m developing – it defintely triggers that. Makes me want to try a scene where I can really gorge myself – half an hour or more of nice deep thuddy flogging.

Plus, cardio. How could that hurt?

fast forward

Man (Dom) and woman (sub) met. Played with each other’s naughty bits. Fell in love. Got married. Life happened – family and bills and pets and work.

He had over the years revealed himself to be a less confident man than she had originally met. She over the years had revealed her confidence and ability to direct.

Somewhere along the way, although they both knew better, things got a little worse. Less sex. More resentment. The things that happen to your life when you’re not looking.

But they stayed talking. They loved each other. And through the long conversations, something extraordinary happened. She said to him, with full truth but no desire to hurt:

“I don’t think you’ve ever been a Dom. Everything you do seems based on submission and a desire to please me.”

And so, to try to save their marriage, a couple who met and first defined the rules of their relationship as Dom and sub, decided to make a change.

Switch roles.

This is my (new) story. My new exploration of sexuality and fantasy. I hope you’ll come with me on the journey.


So my man decided to join me in the shower last Saturday. He loves to wash my hair and back and, okay, naughty bits too.

(Truth be told, I think he’s mainly there for the naughty-bit-washing. The shock!)

On this particular Saturday, I was out of body wash. Vikki’s been a busy girl of late. So I’ve been using my body scrub every day instead. You should have seen his face when I opened the tub to let him dip his fingers in to pick up some creamy gritty scrub to wash me with. 🙂

Of course, the surprise was on me once he started rubbing it all over my body. It just feels different when a man is rubbing body scrub all over your body. Sexier. And – oohgoodlord, what’s that!?

That, as it turns out, is the feel of his strong fingers rubbing body scrub all over my pussy lips. The friction. I tell you. Made me want to squirm and rub up against him, because it was incredible but Not Enough Dammit.

And then his other hand moved up to my nipple. Usually my nipples are too sensitive to be played with much in the shower (I have, like, the world’s most sensitive damned nipples, and not always in a good way) but this was OHmyOHmy. Somehow the extra friction didn’t make it worse, it made it better. I was naked and squirming all over.

I lubed up my hand with a little scrub to see if it felt as good to him. Apparently, based on the growls reaching my ears, it was. The scrub was a delicious friction against my palm as I stroked him from root to tip and back again, twisting and pressing in all the places I know he likes best.

Meanwhile his naughty fingers had started rubbing against my clit more directly, and the friction. SHIT! The friction. I tell you. I was literally out of my mind, no more rational thought, completely in VikkiSlutLand and just wanting more and harder and ohmygodohmygod.

This wonderful interlude also reminded him why I so rarely come standing up – because my knees just drop on me the second the orgasm hits. Thank God he’s strong and kept me upright because if it were up to me I would have sprawled naked and wet into the bottom of the tub.

Once I was able to pronounce my name again, we rinsed off the remaining body scrub in a hurry (how did I get some on my lips?) and he threw me, damp and naked on the bed for a good rogering.

Body scrub. Who knew? 😉

orgasm classification

According to my man, who has done intensive study on the subject, I apparently have three types of orgasm. I laughed out loud when he said it – that many types, really? – but once he explained it to me, I couldn’t help but agree.

Please note the naming is his, not mine! 🙂

Angel wings – Quick, intense, brief. These are the surprise orgasms, the ones he doesn’t see coming… they’re just suddenly there, and just as suddenly over. Extra bonus points if these happen on a night when we both need to get to sleep!

OHMYGODs – These are the long rollercoastery orgasms he seems to love the best. He described it that my body tries to climb into the mattress and he just tries to hold on for the ride, keeping up stimulation for as long as I need it. He knows when I’m done, because I jerk away or slap his hands/mouth away, usually near screaming from the intensity.

Gentle earthquakes – these can take just as long to accomplish as OHMYGODs but they’re more like a brook bubbling over. They’re quiet, with no clear peaks but instead just a rising tide that crests and falls.

I asked him if he ever tries for a certain kind and he said no, there’s no way to tell. It’s kind of like Russian roulette but with a more favorable outcome – or like a box of chocolates, just like Forrest says. You never know what you’re gonna get. 😉