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Casual say what ?

My ramble today is about a new experience. All humans are built to learn new experiences to better him or herself for the progression of better living one's life. Without new experiences we would never learn, not know how to talk, communicate or even eat. A person cannot know everything about anything. But, a person can have a greater understanding of a particular subject than another, depending on life experience and what we are subjected to on a daily bases throughout our lives.

BDSM is one of the areas that I find to always be learning something new about one thing or another. Just when you think that you know everything about something; someone opens a new door, a mind is blown and suddenly you're back to an infant style of knowledge once again.

I consider myself to be an open person, willing to try anything which I find of interest to learn more about and to consider the practicality of doing so. Majority of my toy bag and new items brought before me to place in the inventory, I try on myself before anyone else. I say majority, certain limits do arise such as when your service boy brings a dildo the size of a torpedo and thick as ones arm to the dungeon space.

One such thing is a full significant partner swap in a potential sexual way for an amount of time with agreed restrictions and limits after some time of engaging in conversation over a period of time. I have allowed certain people to use my slave and significant partner in a kink way a number of times, whether it be canes, rope, spanking and so forth.

But sex has never been mixed into the occasion.

The same with myself not engaging in another submissive or slave or anything other than pre-arranged kink activities. The following is a story, a kind of erotica style of text describing one such occasion where it was decided to try a new life experience.


How events unfolded.

Fresh from the bathoom of the ritual that is male grooming and scenting. Getting dressed is next big job of the evening. Suit layed out pressed and clean from the dry cleaners. I hear my slave girl moving about getting herself ready for the night ahead.

Hair drier going, makeup clanging about and a complete invasion of the second bathroom. She wants to make a good impression for the man she will be alone with later this evening, I leave her to get ready with the occasional personal preference to her look as I can tell she's nervous yet excited.

I look up above the bed to see a huge black and white shibari print of a hard tied young vulnerable woman. a grin on my face appears, it always makes me smile seeing that photograph. Eyes moving down to what is in front of me on the kings' bed. Between the wooden bedposts, all the trimmings laid out on the quilt waiting to be worn like the armour of a knight going to a great battle. Finger tingling with joy to see such a sight of craftsmanship before me.

A deep breath of the fresh clean smell before the ritual begins. Firstly the handmade cotton long sleeve shirt. A light grey which you would find is as a neutral colour to suit anything that accessories with it. No patterns, nothing complicated. I unclip the cleaners clips, one arm through the sleeve then across my back to the other arm. Such a smooth transition of the tailored fit fabric.

From a bear to one step closer of a gentleman. Sleeves are always take a little bit of time to complete. Folding both sides exactly into place befaaore taking hold of each cufflink to then spear through the tight hole below the wrist, in order to lock firmly into place just as the rope knot emblem suggests.

With my hands now available I reach for the dark grey formal trousers. A crease line down each leg, crisp and sharp. With each step I take into them, less of the bear is on show and more of the Mr is rising. Two clips on the waist, a black button, looking down at the near-perfect fit as I zip up pushing back the bulge which is still visible for a short time. Click, fastened in. The man with the tape measure did well.

Next the leather belt with a sliding lock. No holes in this leather. Such a smell as I hold it between my fist slightly bent. Smooth and strong. Around the waist it goes to complete the trousers with a shiny rectangle buckle with black insert. Click, Click, locked into place via the little teeth at the back of the belt.

No holes, no marks. Perfect. Shirt, trousers, I look down further and see toes that need attention. I sit on the edge of the bed to slip on my fresh crisp high worn black size eleven cotton socks.

But there is more of a treat in store for my feet before I stand once more. By the side of the bed is a brown box with more leather to be discovered. In that brown box contains my brown formal shoes with dark brown leather laces.

These shoes I opted for a rubber sole, just in case I decided to need the grip for standing on anything such as a cunt or a face. Leather soles have their place but don't have the same effect towards a good stamping.

The tan-brown shoe themselves have a shiny yet soft touch being Loakes with a decorative pattern of detail. They slip on perfectly with a superior feel once tied to each foot securely. A quick touch up, a buff with a cloth and it's time to stand up once again and choose the next article to fit on the armour.

The choice of tie. This is always a special moment. The tie is the main colour of my suit to match anything else that I wear. Always silk, always handmade. Today is blue with hints of purple depending on which point of view the material is viewed. Smooth with a slight shine just enough to catch attention to study the detail of pattern I have chosen to wear.

The time of year is also winter. Blue is cold, clinical, clean, fresh with ice it's hard and unforgiving very much like my firm hand on the skin of a rear end. Winter makes life and emotions wither, crumble and break ready for new life to emerge and flourish for the better. Full Windsor knot. Power, stature, strength.

To complete the tie, a tie pin is always used. A tie pin can be worn for the main purpose of looking attractive, or can help send a message with nonn verbal communication. Red is, therefore, I would prefer to wear something red.

I have been gifted a brass tie pin by my service boy. A red symbol for world aids day which has only passed but six days earlier. The small stud pressed between the stitching of the tie and the round brass clasp clicks into place. We are going to an establishment known for engagment of sex and kink making this a good message to wear. Perfect.

My wrist feels light, searching over the bed in front of me I sight a black box standing out from the rest. Picking it up with one hand there is a good feel of weight, opening the lid it flips back on a latch to reveal a blue-faced, silver coloured watch shining from the overhead lighting. In the attractive face I see the word Boss. Yes I am the Boss.

The time reminding me that we all only have so much of it in our lives and the immortal ticking hand chuckling away at the decay of humans. Out of the box, removing the silk pillow currently holding the timepiece in place. Over my right hand onto the wrist where I flip the fastener over and press in place with a clear click, shirt sleeve tugged slightly back into place.


I call for the slave, one call is all it needs. I hear silence and a scuffle as she comes running up the stairs to see me standing at the end of the bed dressed. Sudden moment of still, realising he is in the room, "Mr Smith" is all she spoke, there is quiet. I ask how do I look and in return she raised her eyes with a quiet "very nice Sir", eyes back to the floor.

Looking infront of me, she had opted for a little blue dress, a bit out of charactor but more feminine than the usual boy, was the look that she wanted for this evening also and to match my colour of atire. She had also put the blue stone Swarovski neclace on which twinkled in the light above us just like her little face. Hair tied back to a pony tail making easy grip for when she is on her knees later on.

We was to be involved in a play scene in the evening before our time with alone with our new friends, Bob slips the overalls designed for the play scene over her little dress and I tell her to start taking the play kit downstairs . Off she goes to load the boot with metal cases, and a short journy to reach our destination. I opted to drive today, doesn't happen often but I fancy a change.


Fast forward an hour later and we are at the carpark of the venue, our final destination for the evening. A pleasent drive was taken with the usual repeat of christmas songs we are all growing tired singing along to this time of year. I pull up in the carpark to notice a car flashing us from behind. I'ts our new friends whom we are spending the evening with.

Reversing to the space next to them we have the windows down for some small chat with the heated seats while people wait for the venue doors to open in the brisk night air like happy little lambs.

This small chat is only the second time she has properly met the male of the couple. She has gone a little nervous knowing the planned agender for later in the evening. Everyone is in high spirits as we are all indeed looking forward to seeing the play scene that I have planned this same evening for a bit of 'light' entertainment.

A short wait, talking about the evening continued. We see and hear the doors to the gate being opened with the clanging of chains with a bunch of keys. Once the gates opened people gather to the main door waiting for entry into the venue. We all step out of our verchles to gather our gear from the boots. I get my first proper look at what the woman i'll be kidnapping for an hour is wearing.

It's not much, even with the cold air she wears not much very well. The small shoes trying to make a small height that little bit taller, I still look down on her. Red and black little number, hair done nice and looking like butter wouldnt melt in her mouth, but I know better and this woman has the mind of water treatment plant but smelling much sweeter.

She has an idea of what im like and is enjoying the view of my suit without trying to stare and keeping herself busy while we wait in line to get in Slave to my side, service boy to the other, giving me plenty of space stopping people from crowding me up, giving my armour full view to anyone looking. Yes I am here.

She is closer than most, smiling and talking. Would look much more pleasing to the eye with a hand round her throat, later perhaps. We are through the doorway now, entry paid and time to claim the room for my play scene to kick the evening off before the planned event later on. Out