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Portfolio of a Wallflower

Oh yes it works! I forgot about your little puffies! Very happy to see them again!
 
doowopdoowop said:
With the passing of time comes change, growth, if you're doing it right.
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Yeah, though the biggest growth for me happened emotionally :sweat: Whew, I'm glad I'm single.

I'm looking at being a naturopath now, though that's a doctorate and I suck at school, so we'll see about that.. ^ ^;;
 
Wallflower20 said:
Yeah, though the biggest growth for me happened emotionally :sweat: Whew, I'm glad I'm single.

I'm looking at being a naturopath now, though that's a doctorate and I suck at school, so we'll see about that.. ^ ^;;
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Yeah, this is the first year I've been single in like 15 years... But hey, now I get to focus on me. Sounds like we're in similar situations sort of
 
doowopdoowop said:
Yeah, this is the first year I've been single in like 15 years... But hey, now I get to focus on me. Sounds like we're in similar situations sort of
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*nod* Exactly. I won't go into detail, but I've had a couple major revelations that both led up to the break up and were made after the break up that were life/psyche altering. I'm in a much better place now, and actually, I've got someone IRL who's going through something similar... and is my Dom, too. =>.<= I'm super excited. We're walking our own paths, but we're able to walk alongside each other for so much of it, it's really special to me.

It's one of the main reasons I came back, so I can share those stories along with the context pictures. :rolleyes:
 
Oh, if I responded with my knee-jerk response, you'd probably cringe. XD Pretty sure I'm made of flesh and bone, though there seems to be a good amount of virus in me at the moment. Worst flu bug in my memory, that's for sure.
 
Wallflower20 said:
Oh, if I responded with my knee-jerk response, you'd probably cringe. XD Pretty sure I'm made of flesh and bone, though there seems to be a good amount of virus in me at the moment. Worst flu bug in my memory, that's for sure.
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It sounds like a response I would've liked. I suppose my question was rather corny, but at least it was an honest rhetorical one. Hope you get well soon. :)
 
Willingtoshare said:
Very nice shot! 💋
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I'm glad you like it. :kiss:
EndlessNameless said:
It sounds like a response I would've liked. I suppose my question was rather corny, but at least it was an honest rhetorical one. Hope you get well soon. :)
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I dunno about that... I was going to say something religious (somethingsomething God somethingsomething sculptor) :p I'm VERY corny. You needn't worry about that.
 
Lovely Wallflower!

A study in subtle curves...youthful, lithe, and fabulous!
 
doowopdoowop said:
That's where my face goes! Yum!
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Haha, I'm feeling something a lot more solid and forceful, at the moment...
EndlessNameless said:
Heh. Interesting response. As for corny, it can be endearing in its own way.



I'll be succinct: wow.
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:p See? Toldja.

Oh, I absolutely eat up corny. I'm from Indiana. Corn is Indiana's cash crop... *hinthint*

:heart::rose: You're a dear. I'm glad you enjoy. ;)
BadBard said:
Lovely Wallflower!

A study in subtle curves...youthful, lithe, and fabulous!
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Hmm, that's a good way to put it. I've had to really learn to appreciate that subtlety. I definitely didn't always like it.
 
I don't know what the word limit is on this forum per post, but I've been planning on posting some writings and recorded conversations I've had with my Dom here as part of this thread. (I also apologise in advance if this is against forum limitations, but I thought it was safe, since I've used this thread as a hang-out thread and had minimal picture posting.) Here goes.

This is my first BDSM experience with my current Dom. This was two years ago, and is my written recounting of at least the very start. I'm working on continuing in more detail for the rest of the recounting, though it's very difficult because I kinda went into an endorphine high for the whole night, so we'll see how far I get. :rolleyes:

Having just finished with my seminar, I rush up to my hotel room and pick up my phone.

[Is there anything you would like me to do in preparation for you?]

After sending the text, I look around at the room in anticipation. The bed was turned down by housekeeping, so I don’t want to touch it; He will be the first to disturb its perfection. I remove my shoes and socks and decide under the desk is enough out-of-sight for them to stay. The full-length mirror, sadly misaligned from the bed, shows me in my work clothes and reminds me I should remove more than my footwear. I change out of my tee and settle on wearing fresh black boyshorts, my black camisole, (my only) pants, and a black cotton tank top, which was heavily embroidered and with many functional buttons up the front. Looking at my phone, I see no response to my text, and it’s just before He is due to arrive. I perch myself in the office chair provided at the desk, with eyes glued to the door. Five minutes pass with my mind reeling, disbelieving that this could actually be happening, before I think on the fact that I just got done working and am surely not in the best state for intimate interaction. And so, with time already come to bear, I decide it worthwhile to bathe freshly for my first encounter with the man I want to call Master, despite His impending arrival.

I draw the water quickly, with just enough depth to rise over my outstretched thighs, and lather myself to make sure all trace of my work day is gone. My legs had been shaven that morning, but I want only to feel like silk for Him and so shave again. Memories of our time walking woodland trails to discuss limits come to me in my brief bath: how He had complimented my coy nature and bashfulness as appealing to Him while insisting I be blatant about my limitations and preferences; how He had pressed His fist into my diaphragm against a large tree, pinning me while slowly slipping a hand under my clothes with promise to stop if I halted in my answering of His questions; how He teased me, with His mouth a mere inch from mine, a glint in His calculating eyes and a smirk on His lips; how He refused to do little more than tickle my pubic hair with the tips of his fingers. I pet my now-bare groin and wonder if it will be a good surprise for Him, if He will appreciate my efforts to be smooth for Him.

My hair still in a bun and dry, I slip out of the tub and roughly towel myself, heart pounding, afraid I might be caught by a rap at the door. The thought of being unprepared and answering Him naked is electrifying. He had said he would be here some time ago; not a full hour, but enough to worry me some, and definitely enough to make me jump at any movement or sound from the hall. I’ve not fully straightened my top so it set nicely over my torso before three distinct knocks on my door pierce me. Flustered, I brush my clothing down, willing all wrinkles and lint away, and move to the door on tip toe, peering through the peep hole. There He stands, looking up to the room number presumably, arms holding bulges under His coat to His sides.

I smile nervously to myself and open the door quickly to let Him in. He looks me in the face and nods with a slight smile before moving forward and past me, my head bowing as He pulls even. I don’t move my face to follow Him, and instead close the door while staring down my hands, gravity more forceful now than a minute ago. As I turn to face Him, I hear soft thuds and clinks as He unloads His arms. Just what is in hand and on table is lost to me as He speaks.

“Sorry for the wait. It’s Seattle
 Traffic
” He flourishes his Coke bottle in hand and shifts his weight from foot to foot as He speaks. These mannerisms are endearing and common of Him, familiar and lulling, reminiscent of the years of long hours playing Dungeons and Dragons where He would be storyteller and master of the game. Yet, I am unable to lose sight of the grave difference in those games and the game of which He will be master tonight. I hold myself still, near the wall, and with hands clutched at my inguinal line.

“I'm just glad you’re here.” My senses come back to me, and I remember my memo I wrote to myself, so I could get some of my curiosities answered before events unfolded. “Would you mind if I ask some questions?”

“Go ahead.” He gives me the floor by way of extending His hand in another flourish, and I pick up my cell phone from the desk. I pull up the note and start with the first topic on the list. “Is there any type of lingerie you would like to see me in?”

Lingerie doesn’t really matter to me, but if it makes you feel sexy, you should wear it.” His answer is brief and not at all what I hoped for. I admit to myself, I want to make Him riled exceptionally quickly while seeing me in a certain style of clothing. want to see what He wants to see emphasized on my body so I can wear clothes that do just that when I get to be around Him. I don’t press the matter, though.

“Is there a title you prefer in session, like Master or Sir?”

“No. You can call me whatever you like.”

“I'd quite like to call you by name, then.” His name, so familiar and respected as a good friend and leader, now to be used in such a charged and fantastically erotic setting is enough to give my core a shock of list, and I feel myself secrete into my fleshy folds. “I.. Think I would like knife play the way you describe it, and I would like to try it sometime.”

“Sure thing, no problem.” He nods to himself as He answers. I seem to have given Him something to think about.

“And, uh
 This is the thing I said that I probably wouldn’t be able to say well to you
” I turn off my phone's screen and hold it in both hands in front of me. I take a big breath and raise my face to the ceiling, nervous smile threatening to overtake my face. My breath stays inside me as I struggle to find eloquent words to share my very lewd thought. “I, recently, after I got to feel you aroused, have been thinking it would be nice to pleasure you orally, and I think I would even like partial vaginal penetration.” I sound so stiff in my own ears, I cringe on top of screwing my face to find words to express myself. He chortles.

“Partial penetration? What, like “just the tip”?” His tone is just shy of mocking and I feel like my wish is incredibly foolish and naïve when phrased that way.

“Well, heh, I mean, yeah, I guess. I mean to say I get the most pleasure from girth, and the glans is the widest, so
” I only just speak the words and I already can’t believe I am talking this way with Him. Never had I imagined we would be having this conversation. Talking vaguely about my preferences in person and speaking in more detail over text has been completely different. I am being so explicit and this is being treated like a regular conversation. My flush intensifies, and I wonder if I am scarlet.

Some time passes making small talk (with Him doing most of the talking). I don’t know what to do to initiate, and want to respect Him, give Him forum to speak on whatever is on His mind. Surely He would set the pace, would move into play as He became ready. After a slightly awkward stop in conversation, the subject is broached.

“You know, are you sure about this? Because what I’m getting from you is that you’re not ready, and I’m not into non-con, so that doesn’t encourage me to do anything to you.”

Shocked, I rush to defend my position.

“No! Not that at all. This is just a big thing for me. I’m beyond thought of what to do. It means so much to me that you’re doing this for me. This is the first time my fantasies are going to become reality, and you are the one walking me through it
” I try to express how touched I am and how grateful and amazed I am at the mutual attraction between us.

He nods thoughtfully for some seconds before I speak again. The time has come for me to initiate, I decide.

“Please, come. Sit.” I indicate the bed side with an outstretched hand, bending at the waist slightly, extending myself to encourage Him to make movement toward the presented seat.

“Well, you see, I spilled this in my lap on the way here
” He shows and jostles the bottle in hand. “
so I’m going to ask that I be allowed to wash up first. It’s why I’ve been standing this whole time.”

Feeling a great sense of failure, I excuse Him to use the restroom and encourage Him to take all the time necessary to right himself without feeling rushed. He bows slightly, takes up some rolled-up sweat pants from the pile of things He set on the table, and makes for the bathroom door.

While I am alone, I face the wall and cringe to myself. Why had I not noticed? Why had He not said anything? Oh, and I missed an opportunity to clean Him, though it would be my first time seeing Him bare and


My thoughts are scattered when the door opens again and He comes out with soft grey sweats on, soiled jeans rolled up and tucked under His arm. However, what my vision centers on as I turn to face Him is His black, simple leather belt, stretched out and folding in half in His hands as He moves: a mundane, unassuming, and casually-performed act, but somehow immensely powerful and stimulating, sending a chill through me, resting deep in my shoulders and gut. I return to facing the wall to gather my wits for the split second He crosses behind me to the desk, where He deposits the pants and belt.

I rotate slowly, stepping forward and suggesting the bedside as a resting place for Him as before. He obliges my suggestion, and I move to my overnight bag, where I have a surprise stored. My necklace is already assembled: a rope leather collar and flat pendant with decorative cross inside a circle. I deftly unfasten and refasten the tricky latch around my neck, leaving the pendant to rest at my sternal notch. His wrist band is in pieces: a flat leather strap, a small, slip-on, cut metal plaque, and a metal button fastener for the band. Wanting to keep the parts together and pristine, I had kept everything in the original packaging. I now see that I should have prepared better and assembled the pieces before His arrival. I mumble as much under my breath and regret having done so immediately. While still without the ball fastener attached, I retreat to the foot of the bed, leather strap lying flat over my open palms. As I reach Him, I lower myself to sit with my legs under me and extend the bracelet to Him.

“Please, allow me to serve you.”

Unsure of what I mean for Him to do by my gesture, He fidgets a little, wanting to pick up on what I intend by my actions.

“Is this for me or you?”

“For you.” I pause, slightly puzzled, and raise my face to Him. Plainly, He doesn’t understand what I thought would be a commonplace sign. “I honestly thought you’d recognize it, since you’ve been into this so long.” I point out the design on the cut metal emblem of his gift. “The shield is for Doms, and the arrow is for males.” I take the same hand to rest my fingertips at the base of my neck, cradling my new pendant. “The circle is for submissives, and the cross is for females.” I feel the heat of embarrassment in my face, and I bow my head to avert my eyes. Perhaps I bought into some false symbolism, if He was unaware of their meanings. “Y-you don’t have to wear it, I just want you to have it. A token of my subservience to you.” I don’t get my whole sentiment out before He speaks, softly but assuredly.

“No, please
” His tone is set to refute my idea that the gift would be rejected, and He extends His arm to me in acceptance.

I palm His forearm and size the band to His wrist, fitting the fastener into the last available hole for it to be secured, making the wristband its largest available size. I’m grateful I chose a longer cut of leather than I originally thought would be adequate. While I work at securing the fastener, He gives His thoughts.

"When dealing with something symbolic, I usually use something less overt. Some people see things like this and use it as a conversation starter. Like, ‘Hey, we’re the same, bro.’ Nah, just because you’re into kink doesn’t mean we share fetishes."

I finish my work by securing the bracelet around His wrist, and He sharply pronates His wrist a few times, testing the looseness and feel of the band. I sit back on my heels and observe His testing with some satisfaction, not having been sure if it would suit Him. His attention settles back on me shortly, and He leans forward.

“You were saying something about me not having to wear this.” He rises from His seat on the bed and sidles to my left. “Why would I not wear it?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you would like it, if it would suit you.” He becomes even with my side and I face forward, unable to follow His progress further. “I’m sad the crafter didn’t offer brown leather, since I think that’s more your style.”

“Ah, black goes with everything.” His words are casual, purely conversational, even as He continues His slow encirclement of me.

“I figured even if you don’t wear it you could
” My speech falters, and electricity runs rampant through me as He gingerly removes my hair tie, freeing my bun and allowing my hair to cascade down my back. His fingers trail through some of my locks as they pull away, causing my breath to catch.

“Keep talking. Talking’s important. It’s how I can gauge how you’re doing without having to see your expression.” He speaks while standing still, lightly massaging his fingers into my scalp directly behind me. My mouth is agape and mind blank, all thought apart from what He is doing to me gone from me. “Even if I don’t wear it I could
?”

“Uh
 You could use it to, um
” His hand moves from my scalp, combing through my hair to fondle my neck, grasping my shoulder, firmly massaging.

“Uh-huh?” I hear His look of satisfaction translate into His voice, a wonderfully teasing lilt.

“Um
 Could use it to bind things.” I have an image in mind of a sizable roll of paper bound by the bracelet, my gift to Him used as a simple storage device. However, my words fail and I am lulled too easily by His touch and presence.

“Bind things? What do you mean? Like you?” His tone is clear, seemingly unaffected and thoroughly puzzled. I am thin, but even I wouldn’t fit both wrists in such a small strap.

“N-no, no. I mean like
 I-I dunno, I was thinking a
” Words almost fail me again as He strokes up my neck, my chin moving with His gentle touch voluntarily. At the same time, He steps into the edge of my vision to my right, looking down on me intently. I steel myself to finish my thought and continue talking, no matter what nonsense I spit out, frustrated that I can’t express myself properly. “A-a
 map. A D&D grid mat. Anything, really.” He steps into clear view again, and my eyes lock onto him as He strokes my cheek and follows my jaw through my hairline. “Any storage.”

I can’t take my eyes from Him, held captive by His own. He suddenly takes a handful of hair and jerks my head back. Air escapes me in a sharp exhale. His hand softens immediately after His exposition of strength to smooth down my neck, down to the valley of my chest. I fully inhale, my breasts perking and pelvis pressing back into my heels without a mind to do so. His one hand doesn’t pick at the first small button of my shirt long before His other hand joins to aid. With a throaty, intoxicated chuckle, I apologize. “You don’t have to bother with those; they’re a pain to work with. The top can slip off.”

“Eh, I don’t mind. Plus, it adds to the anticipation.” He carries his nonchalant tone up until the last word, which he draws out for great implication and to great effect.
​
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