Chasing Me Chasing You

An uncollared submissive struggling through depression, motherhood, and the constant craving of her next orgasm.

The Panties Problem

Sir, here.

I wanted to take some time to discuss with you all a problem that I have been having with bondage from nearly the first time that we tried it. It’s there in the Title; The Panties Problem.

If you also have this problem – and especially if you’ve overcome it – then you might know that the panties aren’t the problem. The problem is in not being experienced enough to know how to think through a complex, multi-stage exercise in advance, so as to spot and address potential problems before they happen.

For me, this lack of experience most often manifests itself as the pair of underwear that I see right when my dick is getting hard, that I forgot to tell Rye to take off before I tied her legs to six different pieces of furniture using a comically vast collection of short pieces of rope and belts.

On more than one occasion, this realization has triggered a barrage of self-directed anger and profanities. A couple of times (very early on) Rye would say something like, “I wondered when you’d notice,” or, “I didn’t say anything because I thought you had a plan.”

These statements were never – ever – meet with a well reasoned and rational response from me.

But I am getting better. The experience problem has become a personal challenge. I just want to be better all around. I am driven to push back my formidable amateur status with real trial and error.

So imagine Rye’s surprise when I tied her up tonight and intentionally left the underwear on ! I told her, “Don’t worry. I have a plan.”

“OH good,” she said, “because I didn’t know if I should have said something.”

“Always say something,” I said. “Don’t presume that time has rid us of all our misadventures.”

The plan was, you see, to put her on the bed, tie her up, place the Doxy inside her panties,  and just let it go. If I got to the point where I needed to avail myself of that sweet, tied up slut, a pair of safety scissors sat at the ready.

That didn’t happen because after only one long orgasm, her butt muscles went full Charlie horse and we switched to another, more cock-sucky enterprise.

I didn’t foresee any of the problems that came out tonight, but we dealt with them.

*                    *                    *

Rye again,

I think this ‘problem’ is just one of many that we deal with. This one happens to be hilarious (in my opinion, I’m sure Sir doesn’t think so). But there is a lot of trial and error that has to happen as we both get more comfortable in our D/s roles and play. We can’t start out being perfect all the time just because I’ve read a bunch of erotica novels and we both watch porn.

I think one of the things that has really helped us is the ability to be flexible. Like last night, my muscles weren’t really up for his ‘plan’ so he changed it. We still had a great time (I mean, his cock got sucked, he’s not complaining) even if it wasn’t the original, planned out scene he has envisioned.

So moral of the bondage story is to be willing to go with the flow and don’t get hung up on being perfect all the time. Sir is more than perfect enough for me. Even when I laugh at him for roping me to the bed and then realizing he wanted me on my back. Though through personal experience I will say that laughing will get you into a lot of trouble.

The occasional nightmare

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This is our scary basement. I hate our basement. We don’t go down there very often. Doesn’t the door behind me look like we have our very own murder room? I look at the basements of the houses we have been viewing to see if they would be as evil. And I know the lighting is bad, but I hope you can see how red my breasts are. I may also hate that crop.

Don’t mind the boxes, we’re storing them up for when we move.

Location, Location, Location

So much of D/s, specifically TPE, is about an emotional response to an activity. A dominant wants control over a situation and a submissive’s actions, as well as their feelings about what is happening to them. Location plays a big part of this. Doing a scene in a child’s bedroom can bring about different emotional responses from different subs. Some may take on a child-like persona; some may just be distracted by how uncomfortable they are around a bunch of toys (Can you guess which one I’d be?). Clean freak subs could be completely thrown from the dirty floor they are kneeling on. If that’s the response that the Dom wants, then great. If not, then it could ruin the scene.

We do not have a set dungeon space in our house. As much as Sir wants to have one eventually in a new place, I’m not holding my breath. So, when we play, we are not always in the same area, or even the same floor. And, I have found, that the various locations around our home bring out a strata of emotions, no matter what we are doing. Whatever the emotion, however, Sir has control over the space and what he wants me to feel throughout our play.


Because, obvious. I couldn’t really talk about BDSM scene locations without mentioning the bedroom. It is my favorite place to play. Most often the only place we have sex (unless the kids are not home or passed out). I just feel the most comfortable there. I find myself more willing to do anything and try anything because of how comfortable and safe I feel. Our room brings out my submissive pet nature and often my most sexual side. I have my little bed on the floor that I can see during our scenes.

I am always pulled into my submissive headspace when I am in the bedroom. Even if he is at work and I am just going in there to get laundry. I feel a wave of comfort and safety. It’s a gooey slavey place for me.

Sitting Room (First floor)

I generalized this as the first floor as we usually start in the sitting room, but I often end up crawling the entire space. Most of our scenes are played by the couch and coffee table.

This is a very high protocol space for me. I am often leashed when we play and there is more of a focus on service. I serve Sir drinks, often on trays. Sir wants me to be on my toes so that I can respond to his whims. And I feel that. I am comfortable, but always aware. I am rarely blindfolded, but often gagged, so that I can see his reactions and signals and react wordlessly.

This is a surprisingly comfortable space for me. I feel safe the strictness of it all. It’s not completely routine, but I am used to not being allowed to cum when we play in the sitting room. I don’t expect it anymore. I can focus on cock worship and general service. If I do get to cum, Sir usually takes me upstairs to the bedroom first (see why I like the bedroom).


This is a much more confusing area for me. I find I am able to transition my feelings when I am in the bathroom when he is not there with me (which is good). But I am very apprehensive in the bathroom with him.

Last night I had to squat next to him while he peed. Then he had me ‘clean off’ his penis with my tongue. It was hot. But there is always a sense of wondering what he is going to do. Was that it? Was there more?

This space holds a lot of dichotomy. Showering together (though we rarely get the chance), is a very sensual and calming experience. But when he uses me as a urinal I feel humiliated. Both can be positive, given the right context, but it is a little unnerving to not know which I will leave the bathroom feeling when he follows me in.


I hate our basement. I’m not sure I can clarify that enough for you. I hate it. It’s dirty, full of boxes, and we have to take a baby monitor down with us as it’s so far away from the sleeping kids.

I also hate it because Sir’s sadistic side comes out in the basement. He can string me up down there. He makes me walk along ropes with knots hitting my clit while hitting me with a crop. It sounds hot. In fact, I’m not sure I would have such a negative response if he did the same thing in our bedroom. But in this case, it is very much the location that brings about a specific feeling. Unease and dread.

The basement is cold. I’m naked, often gagged, and with way too much time to look at all the dirt on the floor and places where I need to organize. There is something about the space that puts me in a submissive, but almost kidnapped headspace. And I’m sure that is where Sir wants me to be. I am my most vulnerable down there. I’m uncomfortable and I will do anything to get out of there. Including take as much pain as humanly possible. Thankfully, he doesn’t take me down there often as he knows what an emotional drain it is.


As much as I would love to have a dungeon play space in our next home, I enjoy moving around our house when we play. The variety of emotions is helpful to me, and I think also to Sir, to enjoy our TPE in new ways. So check out all the rooms in your home to find the fun (and frightening) you can have.

*This is a look at how I feel in different spaces during specific play. Your results WILL vary. Play safe.*

Worse than the worst

When she first started sobbing, way back at the beginning, she was able to think about how her staccato wails reverberated off the blank cement brick walls. She was able to think about the echo and the way it distorted her pain into something both sinister and absurd. She was even able to briefly think something about how echos work, a bit of science from a middle school science fair project.

She was no longer able to think any of those things. She was barely able to think of anything at all, except a wordless memory that was the taste of piss, the smell of her own vomit, and the feelings of failure, and ridicule. And a name, “Donald.”

Her calves were tied to a stool that had left the ground some time ago. She was suspended from the ceiling by her arms, which were tired, her left breast, which HURT, and a rope that ran around her waist, which was also attached to a steel hook in her asshole, giving the feeling that it was nothing more than the strength of her sphincter muscle that kept her from spilling face first onto the cement below.

She wasn’t sobbing now, at this moment in time. The sound is more like painful breathing with ravaged and broken lungs.  She just hangs, alone, in the dark. Her eyes shut so tightly she doesn’t even realize the room is dark. Without wanting to her mind pulls her back, again, to the woods just behind the camp party cabin.


Two years ago she and Master had gone to “Camp” for the first time. Not camping, though they did stay in a tent. The kind of “Camp,” the thought of which makes the heart skip a beat, heavy with the memory of strong experiences or with an unrealized fantasy lodged deep in the heart. That’s how it was for her, the excitement, when she was pulled, naked gagged and attached to a long line of naked and gagged submissives, into Camp for the first time.

The long weekend in that fly-over state was her idea, but it was his ideas that dominated their time there. Everything was powerful and wonderful until the last night, when it was powerful and awful.

She had experienced so many new and exciting play opportunities – things she had never thought of, never heard of. The opprotunity to be as kinky as she always wanted to be in her vanilla life. To only focus on being his happy, humiliated slave. She felt free and empowered, but also youthful, full of that open-minded, wide eyed excitement that drives toddlers to spontaneously make new friends every time they go out into public.

After the closing ceremonies they went to one of the private cabins where nothing less than a bender was unfolding. Anxious dungeon monitors were moving throughout the space but, despite the copious amount of rotted grass water men and women were drinking, everything was orderly and consensual. Honestly, between you and me, everything was just fine. But monitors are supposed to be observant and judgmental, and this place, they were nervous.

She was not allowed more than one cup while master drank uproariously with his fellow tops. She sat with a new friend, a young woman whose domme was also socializing. For both it was a first camp experience, and they were sharing a mutual discovery of how powerful total immersion could be. At one point, he and a troupe of other male doms walked up with evil glints in their eyes to the chair in the corner where she had been left to talk with a new friend. Master picked her up with little more than a grunt, threw her over his shoulder, and carried her toward the door. She sort-of-grinned at her friend, who sort-of-grinned back, as she and four men she didn’t know walked out of the cabin and into the woods behind.

She was set down in the underbrush, told to “kneel” and “open yer slut mouth.” A serenade of zippers settled some of the anxious butterflies in her stomach as she concluded that this was going to be another mass blowjob and bukkee session, her third of the weekend. That all ended when she felt a warm stream hit of something foul hit her arm.

Well, he was always talking about how he wanted a piss slave.

Rough fingers grabbed her face, pinched her cheeks, and forced her mouth open. She had never tasted piss before, she never wanted to. At first, she thought, it actually wasn’t that bad. She tilted her head obligingly, letting it flow out of her mouth. Then a second stream joined the first. She was trying to adjust to the additional volume when a third stream hit her nose. She inhaled sharply, involuntarily. Piss filled her nose, choked and burned her throat. She coughed – once – before throwing up violently all over the dirt. She feel forward into the wet dirt.

“Jesus!” screamed one of doms. Another started laughing. Someone grabbed her hair and tried to pull her back onto her knees. There was a lot of commotion, more screaming.

When her dom finally picked her up off the ground, she saw, through tear muddled eyes, a dungeon monitor leading the rest of the men back to the party. She didn’t even know he was there.

Her master picked her up off the ground, cradled her, carried her somewhere, she didn’t care where. She buried her face in his chest, just letting him carry her, just being carried.

They got back to their tent, he gave her water and cleaned her up. He laid her down. They talked. He admitted putting her into a dangerous situation, apologized. She apologized repeatedly, cried, said she couldn’t do it again. Never again. He said he understood. She saw the sadness in his eyes. In that moment, she didn’t care.

He took her down from her suspension in what felt like the last seconds before her shoulders would have given out. She was now tightly strapped to a chair covered in shallow steel spikes. Compared to the pain in her shoulders and tits, the generalized pain spread across her body was soothing. She was drifting toward subspace and sleep.

“GIVE ME THE NAME!” The scream brought her back into the moment.  He was holding it a piece of paper, torn from an old children’s book the found at a thrift store. The jaunty smile of that fucking cartoon duck made her almost sick and she refused to look at it. He grabbed her head and turned it.

“No,” she breathed. He turned to a table and grabbed a pair of viciously sharp nipple clamps and went to work.

Deep breath, she told herself. Remember what this is for. …

Endure for two hours and I’ll take you to a spa for the weekend.
Give up the name and your a piss slave for a week.

A week ago he wanted to revisit the piss drinking issue. She said she thought she couldn’t do it. He asked why. She said it was the worst thing she could think of. He grinned, issued a challenge.

Day Wear Bondage

This weekend was a nice break from having visitors and lots of running around to do. It was so enjoyable to just be able to relax at home with the kids and get things done at our own pace. Chores still got done, but there wasn’t the hectic push that usually makes our weekends stressful.

So yesterday Sir wanted me wet and feeling owned all day. Not always easy with the kids, but he always finds a way. He decided to try some new fun bondage. I was a big fan.

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It actually felt amazing. It was tight, but didn’t restrict my movement. Like a corset, but I could still bend and move.


He tightened it a bit more. I was honestly shocked at how comfortable it was. Somehow it made me feel skinny and sexy and owned at the same time. Sir let me put a shirt on over it (not that it really hid it, but my children don’t really care) and wear it all day. I wouldn’t be able to wear it out of the house, but there was such a sense of comfort that I got from it, I wouldn’t mind wearing it on days when I am home. Or when I could wear a sweatshirt out.

I have struggled with feeling Sir’s dominance during the day when he is at work and I’m dealing the kids. It was fun to try some new things that we could use to help me feel his presence. Though it’s always a slippery slope. He has already started talking about waist bands, more breast belts, and spikes. I’m sure I will have a photo soon where I’m wrapped top to bottom in belts. Though I’m not sure he has enough belts to do that. So maybe a short reprieve. They do leave some great marks though. And I still had most of them this morning.

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The Bits I Love

DSCN0817So this is how my evening started. We’ll skip over the emotional crap of the day and just say that Tuesday was rough. But Sir motivated me to push through by telling me that we were going to try something new. He certainly knows how to get me going.

After we got the kids to bed and I walked into our bedroom I saw the rope laid out across the bed. I was so excited when Sir told me he wanted to try a new harness tie. And I would show you the front, but I get really self conscious about my breasts in harness ties when they aren’t wrapped really tight. They tend to sag and I struggle with the abuse my children have done to them. But just being wrapped up was amazing. He hugged me and kissed my shoulders and neck as he walked around me. I think that is what really attracted me to rope bondage. It’s a real connection that I love. I love the pictures and posts that Cammies on the Floor does about their rope play. We are just starting out, no where near their level, but I assume the feelings are similar.

So, harness done, I was relaxed and smiling from ear to ear. Then he hold me to climb on the bed and put my feet in the air. I’ll be honest and say that my smile dropped a bit. Then, thanks to a comment on a post earlier this week from my twitter boyfriend, he pulled out some twine.

DSCN0822It’s all about balance. And I think he strikes it well when he gives me these little treats and then lets his sadistic nature make an appearance. He wouldn’t want me to be too comfortable, would he? And he’s made our clothespin collection more interesting by wrapping them in electrical tape. I think it may have started from a place of being nice, because he didn’t want them to splinter. However, now they are just a tool for mean as they are slightly sticky and when they are removed they pull at the skin. So aside from the standard pain of being removed, we also have the stinging pain of at least one side ripping at my skin. Fun times, let me tell you.

DSCN0831While the picture may make me look like a trusted up turkey, please know that it felt amazing. I just laid there in a puddle for awhile. I think he likes to leave me like that. I’m sure I make good faces. And because it will bother me for you, dear reader, to think so, I did laundry yesterday. Please ignore the pile of clothes behind me. Focus on the fact that I have twine tied to my big toes. Because, trust me, that’s what I was focused on.

The whole scene was magic. I was so turned on and gooey that even one of his really hard spankings felt good. We were both excited that I actually enjoyed it. I almost felt embarrassed asking for him to hit me harder. But he was more than willing (yeah, because sadist) and he said it was really hot. I love it when we are both really hot. I makes for an amazing evening.

DSCN0838And just because I was so entertained by this picture. I had to include the shot where Sir’s dick makes an appearance. I commented that we would need to get some dick pics on the blog. He said that he thought he made some cameo appearances in the some of the photos. So when I came across this I was so excited. Maybe sometime I will get a chance to get more than just the tip. But as my hands are usually tied up and he’s the one with the camera, I’m not holding my breath. Enjoy the bits you get I guess, I certainly do.

Weekend Report

This weekend was amazing. The mommy guilt kicked in a few times as my mother-in-law was keeping us updated on Baby 2.0’s teething issues. My tattoo guru is a single mom, so she and I talked through a lot while I was in the chair. My tattoo looks awesome by the way, hopefully I can get some photos today now that it has had a few days to heal.

Friday night was great. We went out with one of Sir’s co-workers and his girlfriend. It was so nice to have an adult conversation (even vanilla). Although I will admit I was super horny all through dinner. I kept rubbing Sir’s leg to try and keep in physical contact with him. I practically skipped into the elevator when we got to the hotel. I pulled out all the toys and laid them out across the desk. The room had a beautiful chaise lounge chair that was put to good use. We would definitely go back.

I think we got pretty wrapped up (pun intended) with what we were doing, so pictures weren’t really a priority. I would love to blame Sir, but instead I’ll take it as a compliment that I was so distracting that he forgot to grab the camera.

The crop generally makes a lot of noise, so we don’t get to play with it too much at home. So it was nice not to have to worry about waking up the kids. The dreaded clothespins made an appearance. I think he loves to play with them as he knows that they can make me cry without too much effort.

But it was a good time. Sir and I have decided that we need a king size bed. It’s so big. He wouldn’t even know if I was on the floor or not.

However, one small beef. What is up with hotels not having porn anymore? I swear. This is the third hotel that we have stayed at in as many months that don’t have porn. We were able to make our own entertainment, but it’s just been bugging me.

Nice calm week this week. The mass of appointments and work stress have passed. I still have work to do, but not near as hectic.

Sorry if that wasn’t quite as raunchy as you may have expected. I think my photo yesterday may have set you up for something else. But it was a great time. Hopefully we can find a way to fit in photos next time.