Dinner last night with the kinky ladies, Spiral, Painted Lady, Mrs Magpie and Majeste were all in attendance. We had a good catch up, mostly revolving around each other then, planning our next play day, and wondering how many other women we could invite to the party. We also balanced our diaries, and I was able to come away with a handful of exciting dates for the future.
I turned up a little stressed - running a late due to work and generally feeling somewhat behind the times due to my laptop dying over the weekend (I am still in mourning and have yet to be able to go shopping for a replacement - this will, after all, likely be the most significant relationship of my next three years). Fortunately, at least one thing was in place - what I needed to wear, and how I was to behave. Majeste, as a "taster" had requested a little bit of the doll. We were both concerned over being to overt about doing a scene or anything over dinner, so we settled on protocol. I asked for some rules of engagement, she sent them over:
I will wear heels
I will not touch, kiss or greet her on arrival
I can flirt with her during dinner
She will not flirt with me during dinner
I will wear something that is reminiscent of the Secretary Doll
I will drink what she drinks, what she orders or pours for me
I will sit across from her at dinner
I will walk behind her at all times
Rather than being stressful, they codified my behaviour, gave me limits in which to operate. What I was going to wear was decided for me, alongside other social interactions. My evening was made easier, simpler. It also gave me an opportunity to show off, to show what I was made of, at least. I like getting dressed up and being taken out, especially when, the next morning I get a flattering and complimentary email about my behaviour, a desire to fuck me with a fist full of lube, which gave me the usual fear/excitement I've come to associate with her. We're planning a classic date - dinner and a movie - and the soft kisses alongside stern rules received before leaving to catch the train home give me something contradictory to remember her by. I love pleasant contradictions.
Message from Captain once I'd landed back to head over to his to provide some lip service, so I grinned to myself and turned around to head out again, always happy to pick up some mid-week action. Which was not to be. Despite phone calls and angry buzzer pressing he'd managed to fall asleep between my setting off and arrival (next time I'm going to request he sends a car for me and that I have a set of keys). So it was home again, after hanging around in the cold waiting for a bus, heated with the rage of my internal fuming, as anyone who follows my Twitter will have noticed. Not made much more mollified by getting an apology phone call just as I was drifting off to sleep.
The morning found me distressed, still grumpy and very horny. Three orgasms later, the final one against the cold press of a glass dildo to compensate for my feelings of incompleteness and to enjoy the wet/smooth dynamic. I tried to work out what to do next. I knew, really, that it was an accident, but still felt let down by it. We had a few text exchanges in which I expressed displeasure and then I had a thought that made me smile. Homework for Dominants: something to make me feel better.
In this case, he came up with a kinky shopping and clubbing trip to Europe. And plenty of rubber. We then spent the rest of the day planning his future exploits in the blogosphere and things for his flatwarming, so all in all I feel like I'm in a whirlwind of BDSM. Which is no bad thing.