50 Shades of Grey in Dubai

So, EL James’ 50 Shades of Grey might be the bestselling book of all time, and I’m sure many of you will have had a peek into the world of BDSM by reading it but, let’s face it, it’s fiction. A woman in her late forties has put her fantasy on paper, but many people are questioning if her account is an accurate portrayal of this sexual preference. I’m by no means an expert, but I can tell you my story of my latest foray into the BDSM world.

Sexually, I’ve always been adventurous. Trying new things in the bedroom brings a great sense of excitement, anticipation and satisfaction to me. Role play, voyeurism, exhibitionism etc. all make regular appearances in my sex life. Handcuffs and blindfolds had popped up on occasion, but it’s always been more Ann Summers than Christian Grey’s Red Room. That was until an opportunity arose for me to take it a step further…

I was back in contact with an ex-lover of mine, Mr. X.X. (I’ll leave you to guess which of the men I’ve blogged about it might be), and recent text messages I’d received from him suggested he was interested in engaging in a little BDSM. But, unlike Anastasia Steele, I wasn’t to be the submissive one in this relationship. Instead, I assumed the role of Christian Grey, albeit a poorer, female version.

Initially, when Mr. X.X told me he needed disciplining, I was a little hesitant. After all, the times when we had been seeing each other were tumultuous and I wasn’t keen on giving without receiving. I weighed it up in my mind and decided I could take advantage of the opportunity, and so I agreed to discipline him, as long as I called the shots as to where and when it would happen.

Our first session was a last minute arrangement – my plans for the evening had been cancelled, so I decided I’d fill the gap with a little kinky fun. I sent Mr. X.X a text message telling him I would be coming over that evening and, if he had plans, to change them. He immediately agreed and, already, the control excited me.

I was unprepared for the session with Mr. X.X, so I nipped to the mall to pick up a couple of bits and pieces before heading over to his place. About an hour before I was due to turn up at his door, Mr. X.X sent me a message saying he wouldn’t be able to make it due to work commitments. His lack of respect for my time irritated me, so I granted him an extra hour and told him if he didn’t comply, the deal was off. He agreed.

I’ll admit, as I made my way over to Mr. X.X’s apartment, I felt nervous. I’d slept with him several times before, but this was different. This was entering into world I had little experience of, and I felt like I was about to lose my virginity all over again. I hadn’t really planned what I’d do to discipline Mr. X.X and, with no accessories, I was worried my performance would be poor.

Just after 10pm I knocked on Mr. X.X’s door. As he opened it, I pushed past him and strode in. One look at him and I knew I had it in me to punish him. Suddenly, I found my irritation at his lack of respect for my time, rise to the surface. I grabbed his chin, pushed him against the wall, and told him not to fuck with me. He cowered and apologised, which only infuriated me even more. I needed to smoke.

Having run out of cigarettes, I demanded Mr. X.X give me his pack. As he did so, I told him he had the time it took me to smoke a cigarette to get naked and on the bed. As I inhaled the smoke, I wondered how long the irritation I was showing had been bubbling beneath the surface. Was it just Mr. X.X or had I been suppressing something deeper? Ordinarily, I’m fairly calm and rarely lose my temper. Before I could overthink it, I’d finished my cigarette and headed back in to teach Mr. X.X a lesson for disrespecting me.

Like a good student, Mr. X.X had undressed and was laid out on the bed. I ripped the duvet off him, pulled out some silk scarves from my handbag and proceeded to tie him up. I started with his hands, tying them together above his head, and then moved onto his feet. As I made sure the bow was tight, I told him he wasn’t allowed to speak, that the only words he could say were the safe words. He nodded in agreement.

Before blindfolding him, I stripped down to my basque, stockings and heels. I was most definitely in the mood for teasing. I looked him up and down, deciding what my next move would be. I told him he was pathetic for trying to waste my time earlier, and forced him to apologise. Like a good student, he did so. I definitely got a kick out of being dominant over him.

I blindfolded Mr. X.X before straddling him. I now had complete power over him and oh, how I loved it. At that moment, I could have done anything to him and he would have had to take whatever it was I gave him... Then my onslaught began. I dug my nails into his chest and dragged them all the way to his hips, watching Mr. X.X wince as I did so. It felt so satisfying. I had no idea I was a sadist, but I took complete pleasure in seeing the marks my nails left behind in their wake. 

Each time Mr. X.X squirmed, I slapped him and cursed him for being so pathetic. He’d apologise, and so I’d slap him for disobeying me – talking when I hadn’t given him permission to do so. I continued scratching him all over his body, occasionally breaking it up with light licks or kisses. But, before he could begin to enjoy my more gentle touches, I’d dig my nails in again.

After I was satisfied that I’d covered every inch of Mr. X.X’s chest in scratch marks, I then ordered him to lay on his stomach. Watching him struggle to turn over whilst tied up amused me greatly. He was so weak and pathetic, and knowing that was my doing pleased me no end. I continued my assault on his back, occasionally smacking his buttocks, leaving a red-raw handprint on his skin. I then took to biting – neck, shoulders, bottom – any piece of flesh I could sink my teeth into was fair game.

I ordered Mr. X.X to flip over onto his back again, and told him I was going for a cigarette. I left him bound and blindfolded on the bed and headed out onto the balcony. When I returned, he was in the same position I’d left him in. I straddled him once more and gently kissed his lips before biting them.

I removed his blindfold and kissed him again before thrusting my breasts in his face. I could feel his hard-on between my legs and I knew he wanted to be inside me. But, I decided to drag the teasing out... I continued to push my breasts in his face. He opened his mouth, attempting to taste them but, instead, he was met with a slap. I instructed him to keep his tongue to himself. He obeyed.

By this point, I was incredibly turned on and I desperately wanted to slip him inside me, but I knew there was still more pleasure to be had before doing so. I kissed, I licked, I bit and I scratched, never allowing Mr. X.X to detect a pattern. I crept down to his hips and acted as though I was about to give him a blow-job. With my lips millimetres away from his cock, my breath caressing his skin, I grabbed his balls and swooped down to bite his thighs. He let out a hiss of pain, which only triggered me to slap him once more.

I resumed my straddling position and, again, pushed my breasts in his face. After a few minutes of doing so, I could feel his hips bucking. I knew he’d be able to feel how wet I was, and I didn’t want him to know he had the ability to do that to me. I ordered him to stop bucking. He obeyed.

Eventually, for the first time that evening, I took hold of his hard-on and placed it between my legs. As I kissed his lips and bit is neck, I felt him trying to inch into me. I told him, in no uncertain terms, that trying to enter me would not be tolerated. He obeyed. 

I would decide if, and when, I wanted to fuck him - he would not have a say. This was my game; he would play by my rules. Each time I felt him try to push into me, I’d lift my hips up. It was one step forward, two steps back for Mr. X.X and I was revelling in it.

For his good behaviour, I pulled my breasts out of my basque and let his tongue explore my nipples. Then, without warning, I pushed my hips down until Mr. X.X was all the way inside me. Never had it felt so good. Whilst I may have been teasing Mr. X.X, I had also worked myself into a frenzy.

We bucked like animals until I came. It was, by far, the best sex session I’d ever had with Mr. X.X. But, after two hours of being tied up, he couldn’t take any more and said the safe words. The second I untied him, we went back to being our usual, argumentative selves. How two people, who dislike each other so much, can have great sex like that, I have no idea. 

I dressed and we shared a cigarette on the balcony before I left. As I walked home, I replayed the session in my mind. I wasn’t sure how I’d performed as a Dominatrix and I was back to feeling like I’d just lost my virginity – satisfied and elated but insecure. Personally, I really enjoyed myself and I was ready to take it to the next level but, not knowing his limits, I was unsure of how far I could go, so I planned to take it just a little bit further each session.

I won’t give away what happened next in this post, I’ll save the next Mr. X.X story for another day, but I think Mr. X.X and I can already give Anastasia Steele and Christian Grey a run for their money.

Like a virgin

A recent conversation, with a colleague and fellow blogger of mine, led me to question if it's better to save ourselves until we're married or if we should explore the crazy sexual world that's out there before we decide to commit.

Being a virgin is no longer seen as 'uncool' as it was when I was a teenager, when everyone couldn't wait to get their rocks off to anyone who'd give it to them. Losing your virginity to your husband is now seen as the ultimate way for a girl to say "I love you". Even if your new husband has slept with half of the city.

Perhaps it's just living in Dubai, but a large chunk of unmarried girls here are still virgins. They're waiting for that special someone, to live the fairytale where their Prince Charming will sweep them off their feet on their wedding day, carry them over the threshold and onto the four-poster bed where they'll make passionate love all night long.

Don't get me wrong, the notion is very sweet, if not a little naive. I know of very few women who had an enjoyable experience losing their virginity. In fact, I think I'm one of the few who had a pleasurable experience. Ok, so it wasn't the Prince charming fairytale, but it was a hell of a lot of fun and I don't regret it at all. In fact, I'm glad I did it when I did. I wasn't too young where I had no idea what I was doing, and I wasn't too old that I'd make up for lost time in the future. Losing my virginity opened my eyes to a whole new world, and I began to explore myself sexually.

However, many women who are sexually liberated are seen as insecure or lacking self-respect. I'm not sure I agree with that. Don't get me wrong, I don't think a woman needs to throw herself at every man that breathes, but exploring sex is healthy. How do you know what you like and what you don't like? Self-love is a great way to fantasise but it's just that, a fantasy - when you put them into practice, you might find they're not what you imagined. After all, we're one of only three species' designed to have sex for pleasure, along with chimpanzees and dolphins, so surely being sexually active outside of wedlock is no bad thing?

But what about those who do wait for that perfect guy? There are so many sexually deviant men out there, what happens when you find out your new husband wants to blindfold you, chain you up to the bed and... pee on you? No, it hasn't happened to anyone I know, it's just an example. After all, golden showers are just one of the very many outrageous sexual preferences out there. You only need to take a glimpse into the world of pornography to see how fucked up it can really be.

Whilst I'm all for trying something new, there are sexual acts, such as that of the golden shower, that I'm just not willing to participate in. The thought of being eternally bound to someone who might want me to do that is, well quite frankly, frightening. Then there are the guys who just can't get it up or suffer from premature ejaculation. And more often than not, guys are more than willing to put their fingers in their ears, stamp their feet and refuse to acknowledge they have a problem. But, once you're married, it's tough luck for you. If you're single, you put on your clothes and head back to your own apartment where you won't have to suffer the humiliation of someone peeing on you or ejaculating on your leg.

But what do guys think? Most Arab men won't marry a girl unless she's a virgin, yet most Western men would be far too scared to touch one. Who is the pressure on? Western women to lose their virginity too quickly or Arab women to not give into temptation? Surely if a man really loves you, it doesn't matter anyway? Without telling them the truth, how would they even know? There are so many myths about men being able to tell if you're a virgin or not - from bleeding the first time you have sex, to men being able to feel if your hymen is in tact or not and even to how active you are in the bedroom. It's all so 1950's.

So, whilst peer pressure and magazines such as Cosmopolitan might have encouraged me to go out and get laid in my teens, I'm so very grateful that they did. If I was a virgin and wound up married to a guy who was a freak in the bedroom, my problems would be so much worse than just sleeping with another man.

So, for all the virgins out there, I salute you for being so brave!