A New Way

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I find my true sexual discipline and pleasure.
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Being single again at forty something was interesting. Being divorced and fairly pretty with long blonde hair, blue eyes and a trim figure made things even more interesting. Men seemed to believe such women would be bereft of sex and thus, would be 'gagging for it' and they, attached, married or not, were just the men to help out 'the little lady.' Married women just simply hated such women as me. We were danger with a great big red flag and wide open legs.

To an extent these stereotypes were true.

After nigh on twenty years of sex on tap, ready and available for me when wanted, it was difficult to cope with its lack of ready supply. For the first couple of years, although I got my fair share of sex, it was different. It was not on tap, I could not just reach across the bed and find a ready cock. It had to be planned and arranged; sexual spontaneity for single people does not exist. That is, of course unless it is sex with oneself and via one's favourite toys. I had plenty of that and I got very adept using various strings of beads and vibrators.

As I became used to being single and had my flings, some long, most short, other stereotypes proved to be true. I was amazed at how popular I became at work, at my tennis and golf clubs and amongst my network of friends and acquaintances once it became known that I was now single. I was surprised at how many men who I had known in a couples situation told me how they 'had fancied me for so long' and 'whose wives did not understand them! With the men the popularity was many wanting to get into my knickers and with the women it was either, jealousy at my freedom or the belief that I was after their man.

During the first few years, I went with more men than really I should have. I called it my 'raining men' period for it seemed that every way I turned there was a man or three wanting to fuck me. And I admit that I let probably too many do just that. That, I learned quickly, was now as good as the norm for single women, for they had developed their own 'fuck 'em and leave 'em' mentality. Surprisingly the men seemed to accept it quite readily, but then we had for such a long time.

I can justify my behaviour to myself in many ways, although I am not always that convincing so I stopped bothering. I now just have one reason as to why I was and still am, rather promiscuous; I enjoy sex and have an avid appetite for it.

However, since the last time I was 'in play,' over twenty years ago, things had changed. Having been off the sexual scene for so long, I had no idea how adventurous both men and women had become. Gone were the days of not having sex for several dates. It was at least half-expected on the first, but it was for certain on the second or third. And talking to other divorcees both those I knew and ones I found in internet chat rooms, these expectations were at least as prevalent amongst us fairer sex as it was among the male singles. There was without a shadow of a doubt far more equality and I was not too sure I liked that. But at least it stopped a woman being considered a slut if she had several sleeping partners.

What constituted sex had also changed.

Whilst my ex and I had what we had considered to be a satisfying, quite vibrant, fairly adventurous and creative sex life, I realised quickly that was a 'married couples' version. Time had moved on, as had dating and the availability and the nature of what more or most single people considered to be 'normal' sex. That version of a sex life was not what two single people expected or wanted nowadays. They wanted and demanded a far fuller, varied and more, what some might call, outrageous sex life.

Oral sex both ways was de rigeur and swallowing by the lady was high on the agenda. I did not swallow my husband until we had been married for ten years, it was just not on the menu. Photographing each other or exchanging intimate selfies seemed to be in most couples play arena as did telephone sex and exchanging lurid emails. Anal sex was no longer the taboo it had been throughout my sexual 'career' and many wanted to try and quite a few expected it, and that was not just the men! Swinging, threesomes and women experimenting with other females seemed to rear their heads far more often that I would have imagined possible. Then on top of all that along came Fifty Shades of Grey.

*

Naked, apart from above the knee, leather boots, black fishnets and a beneath the bust, laced, black corset, I was laying on a narrow bed in a flat in Highgate in North London. I had clamps on my nipples and I was blindfolded. My arms were above my head with my wrists tied to the wooden bedposts with three eights of an inch gauge, white rope. My legs were wide open and my ankles were also tied to the bed with the rope. The rope also went round my body and cut into the bottoms of my breasts pushing them up a little making them look bigger than their thirty B cup size. I had a black leather collar round my throat that had a chain attached to it that Haydn had locked onto the headboard.

Totally restricted by the ropes I was unable to move very much and the tightness of the corset made that even more difficult. I really was at my limit with how tight it was round my waist and doubted if it could have been squeezed in any further. It was uncomfortable and made both my back and stomach ache. The feeling of being restrained and constricted, though, more than made up for such relatively minor inconveniences.

Hadyn had spent ages preparing me.

He had made me strip almost immediately I had got to the flat and had walked round me 'inspecting the goods' as he put it. I liked that. He checked my body carefully for any signs of suck, bite, scratch or spank marks. He then made me bend over and rest my head on the arm of a sofa over so that he could examine my anus. Pulling my cheeks apart he gave that a visual inspection and then a short finger examination. He eased the lips of my pussy apart and ran his fingers along the crease between them.

I found this part of our repertoire, both exciting and humiliating.

"You seem to have been a good girl, Chistina," he said gently smacking my bottom. "Have you been?"

"Yes Haydn," I replied trying to recall what sexual activity I had got up to since I was last with him, which was four or five weeks ago.

"Good, because I have a special treat for you tonight."

"Thank you Haydn," I replied in the meek tone and way that was my position in our role-play.

"Now put these on," he said handing me the black, fishnet, seamed, stockings. "Sit on the spanking chair to do that," he directed me looking at the cheap wooden dining chair that he sat on when with me laid across his lap when spanking was on our agenda; it was not tonight.

I sat down and proceeded to slide the stockings up my legs. As I did so, Haydn picked up his iPhone and started taking photos particularly when my legs were open. I didn't mind for I found both the flashing and the slight demeaning exciting and I trusted him implicitly. I was slightly perplexed to see that they were not holdups and momentarily wondered whether he had bought the wrongs stockings, but I discounted that for Haydn's attention to detail was total.

He walked across the room to a wardrobe and returned to where I was seated with two boxes in his hands. Kneeling before me, he opened one box and took out a pair of high heeled, black leather boots that he proceeded to put on my feet and smooth up my legs. Cut away at the back behind my knees, the fronts of them came five or so inches above my knee.

"Put your legs out straight in front of you Christina," he told me.

I did as Haydn asked and was delighted when he gently smoothed the thin, supple leather up my legs so they fitted like a second skin

"Walk round the room and let me look at them," he told me.

Feeling a terrific buzz due to his tenderness, my near nudity and his eyes on me I walked confidently around the room although the stockings slipping down my legs were somewhat disconcerting.

"Magnificent Christina, now here is my real present," he said opening the other box and removing a black corset. My heart pounded when he held it up to show me. I saw that it was boned and laced and I knew that I would be totally restricted in it. My pulses beat faster when I saw the four black suspender hanging down from the lacy edge of the corset

"Thank you Haydn," I said running my fingers over it and noticing how strong was the material.

"Slip it on Chrissy."

It was not so much slipping it on, for the flat, black lace was loosely threaded all the way up the back at both sides, but more stepping into it and pulling it up my legs, which I did. The silky lining was cool and smooth to my skin and the elastic suspenders with the silver buckles hung down my legs and hips. I wanted to clip those to the fishnets for they had slipped down a little, but thought it best to wait for Haydyn's direction.

Haydn was behind me and he took hold of it and I felt him pulling on the two ends of the single lace. It immediately felt good and restrictive. As he pulled harder on the lace it gripped me tighter and tighter. It took my breath away and made me squirm with discomfort as he relentlessly narrowed my normal twenty six inch waist down to around twenty two, I guessed. I stood up as straight as I could and breathed in for that relieved the pressure marginally, but, of course that was almost immediately lost when he pulled even harder on the lace. I felt as though I would not be able to breath and that he would pull it too tightly for me, but I trusted him and did not use our safe word of Literotica.

He kissed my shoulder and whispered. "You look so beautiful my darling."

I thanked him and stood there waiting for my next instruction. "It makes me feel beautiful and desirable," I whispered to him.

"Last garment Christina," he said from behind me as he put his arms round me. Holding the collar in front of me his hands brushed against my nipples. "Mmm they are nice and hard aren't they? You have wonderful nipples Christina, you know that I adore them don't you?"

"Yes Haydn, thank you," I muttered.

Although my areolas are on the small side only just over an inch in diameter, my nipples are very pronounced. A few sessions ago Haydn had measured them. They are three eights of an inch in diameter and they stand out from my breasts by half an inch. When I am aroused they do not swell very much, but go so hard that they can seriously embarrass me even when I am wearing a bra, which more and more recently I do not.

"They were just made perfectly for our nipple clamps weren't they?"

"Yes Haydn they were."

"Let me put this on first Christina then we can use the clamps."

As he pulled the black leather collar round my neck I noticed that it had a chain about a foot long hanging down the back with a ring on the end and another smaller ring on the front just by the Adams apple. I had no idea what either were for

"You know where the clamps are C, why not go and put them on?"

"I will," I said happy to obey him. I was feeling thrilled at both the feeling I would get from having my nipples pinched for what could be the next few hours and from the pleasure I knew that it gave Haydyn.

I walked across the room, past the window that was open and to the cupboard beside the bed. I went to squat down to look in it, but Haydn called out.

"Stop Christina, what have I told you about bending down?"

I remembered that he had said I should always bend from the waist adding. "So that Christine I can see those delicious, plump cunt lips and your arsehole."

"I am sorry," I replied straightening up and bending as I had been instructed. It felt so much better knowing that Haydn would be looking at my bottom and vagina.

"That's very good so we will forget about your forgetfulness this time."

I couldn't see the clamps. "They are not here Haydn."

"Oh no that's right I took them home so that I could put them on Anne," he said referring to his wife and making me feel a little jealous. "Here open this," he said throwing a package to me that I just managed to catch.

Opening it, I found a pair of small clamps on a chain. The chain was connected to each clamp with a clasp so that it could be removed.

"Come here," he ordered.

I went and stood in front of him. He removed one clamp, threaded the silver chain through the ring on the front of the collar then refixed the clamp. Each clamp hung down my body nearly to my waist.

"Put them on."

I pressed the clamps open and slowly clipped them to each of my nipples. Both hurt, but other than a low grunt I did not show it. It is always more difficult and painful putting them on yourself than when your dom does it and Haydn knew that very well.

"You look lovely," he said slipping his hand downwards and cupping my pubic mound. His fingers slid along my slit.

"Mmmmm you are wet aren't you?"

"Sorry Haydn."

"Never mind. Now you can do up the suspenders."

I stretched the elastic of the first suspender and fitted the top of the fishnet to it. It was a nice sensation as the nylon net stretched and moulded itself round my leg. I clipped the other three suspenders on and felt good with the stockings tops well above mid-thigh.

"That looks good Christina, you have lovely legs."

"Thank you Haydn."

"You know what we are going to do now, don't you?" He asked. We had discussed what we were going to do this evening and that it was going to be a bondage time. So far, the way he had groomed and prepared me, far surpassed anything we had done before and I wondered what the remainder of the evening had in store for me.

"Yes Haydn," I said quietly

*

I met Haydn at a book reading group I had joined. In my view, he was by some margin the brightest person there. He had the ability to 'see' far more into a writer's words than the rest of us and possessed the verbal communication skills not only to explain his views to the rest of, but also to persuade us round to his views. He not only had all that, but also a confidence that gave him enormous gravitas and presence. He was very much the 'leader of our group' as I suspected he would be with most groups in which he was involved. He enthralled me.

I was then, and pretty much always have been and am now, a sucker for intelligence. A bright, fertile, alert and analytical mind has always made the elastic of my knickers loose. Hearing eloquent phrasing analysing a difficult issue has generally made them start to slide down and listening to someone coming to a unique conclusion can, in my mind, have them sliding down my legs and bundling round my ankles.

Metaphorically, I could feel the waistband of my knickers loosening the second time we were both at the reading group together. It got looser the next time and on the fourth time when a few of us had a drink afterwards I could feel them sliding down. Then on the fifth time, when he and I went for a drink together, just the two of us, they slid down and formed a pool of black cotton and lace round my feet.

"I desire you utterly," he whispered into my ear as we sat side by side on the small bed in the flat in Highgate.

I kissed him deeply and opened my legs as his hand slid up them.

"But you need to realise, Christina, that I am different to other men."

"Yes I know that."

"But you do not know how I am different sexually."

I was not paying too much attention as he had slipped his fingers inside my panties and was rubbing my clit. I was highly aroused and near to an orgasm when his next words did sink in. "I will not want to fuck you Christina, ever?"

"Is that because you are married," I asked feeling very surprised and a little disappointed.

"In part yes, but also because I want more and will give you more than mere penetration."

I had no real idea what he was talking about so I just said. "No? Really and what is that?"

"I want more than your body, I want your mind. I want to control and direct you Christina Maria in a way that you have never been controlled and directed before."

As his fingers slid inside me and as he nibbled my aching nipple I mumbled.

"I don't understand."

"You do not need to understand, just do as I say and your life will change. You have no idea what you have been missing, what has not played a part in your life and what you have not savoured. You will have sexual pleasures to a level that your mind and body cannot even imagine."

Despite us being alone in the bedroom of the flat in which he stays during the week, his home is in North Devon, and my skirt was bunched round my waist, my panties were round my knees, my blouse was undone and my tits were out of my bra, he made no effort either, to undress or, fuck me. Nevertheless he made me cum several times with his fingers and I went home a sexually satisfied, but very confused woman. It was one of the few times I had been pleasured to the point that I felt sexually sated, but had not held or even touched the man's penis.

Although with my ex I had enjoyed a full and varied sex life and since breaking up I have, to put it mildly, overindulged myself, I always felt something was missing. It was not that I did not have orgasms for I have only ever feigned them twice. In fact I sometimes, particularly since being single again, cum a little too easily. I could not put my finger on what it was that I wanted, but was not getting.

On occasions I wondered if deep down I was really a lesbian. I had messed around with other girls at college, but then in the early nineties with Basic Instinct being the rave film and Sharon Stone being voted the most desired woman in the world by both men and women, it was almost expected, certainly from students. That did not explain, however, why I had so easily recently been to bed several times and had sex with Jessie my tennis partner. Perhaps, I had concluded, my need for other women that had lain dormant was now surfacing and was stemming my feelings for hairy chests and stiff penises. I could not completely buy that idea for I still yearned for both hairy chests and stiff penises, rather more than I did for smooth skin and soft breasts.

Haydn telling me that my life would change, that there was something missing in my sex life and that with him, 'if I did as I was told,' I would have extreme sexual pleasure, struck a chord with me. Was what he promised, although I had no idea how he would fulfil his promise, the missing element in my life I wondered?

He was not at the reading class the next week and I felt a surge of disappointment, both at him not being there and at him not letting me know; we had exchanged mobile numbers and email addresses. I tried to stop myself for I am not man chaser, but I text him and asked if he was ok. He came back that he was ok, but said nothing else. Feeling a little humiliated I did not want to end the text conversation.

'Will you at the next class?' I wrote.

'Maybe.'

Then there was a long pause as I wondered if I was chasing him too much? I realised that I was, but could not stop myself writing.

'I really enjoy the class. Do you?'

'Yes otherwise I would not go,' was the terse reply.'

After the extreme intimacy in that sparse flat I was feeling disappointed and let down that he had made no effort either, to follow it up or, to arrange anything further. I didn't know what to say or write though. He was clearly being 'tight lipped' and, I thought, now he had made a sort of love to me that he did not want me any more. I was surprised, therefore, when another message came in from him. It said.

'Take your top and bra off and send me a selfie of your tits.'

In this new world of dating that I had joined since my divorce, I had found taking selfies of yourself partially or fully undressed to be quite common. I now had a small collection of cockshots on my phone as well as copies of what I had sent of me. I found the way that he had asked for it without a preamble or even a please or thank you to be both rude and demeaning, but, nevertheless I was drawn to the idea of taking a selfie. It hit me hard when I realised that I wanted to please him, show myself to him and yes, flaunt my body at him.