A Peek Back 9-8

200 posts.

Hard to believe that, as of last night, we reached this milestone so quickly. Still hasn’t sunk in. It does not seem like just over four months ago that I came to Leigh with a crazy idea and a single blog post introducing myself. If memory serves me I believe our first day we had 8 views. We went over 30,000 total earlier this week.

So in honor of this momentous occasion I am sleeping in Saturday. The words you read right now are, with the assistance of a celebratory 24oz Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, being keystroked Friday evening.

Its been an amazing ride so far. And its only going to get better. Thank you all.

If you’re a first time Peeker™, welcome!  You are invited to peek through the keyhole. We strongly encourage you to view all of the established Pages, which can be viewed by selecting any of the tabs at the top of this page.

The Archives are an inclusive, running version of every post of note on this blog. If you have not read any or all of the stories, random musings, poetry, etc linked from The Archives by all means please grab a seat, perhaps a drink (the 24oz Pale Ale may need to wait until later in the day) sit back and enjoy.

So saluté!  It’s time to Peek Back!

Interview With A Submission Vampire Vol.1 No.15 – Longtime Peeker™ Ms. D wanted to know if moments like Breaking Leigh were life altering.

A Coffee, Cricket And A Dom Walk Into A Monday – A very laid back, touching Labor Day induced Monday musing.

The Butterfly Chains Act IV – In short, I fuck Leigh fast and hard. One of the most well received Acts of any story I’ve written. Peekers™ went gonzo over this one.

I Had No Idea – My stunned reaction to the above, plus an announcement about a new blog feature. It involves me coming.

The Looking Glass Act II – A very special memory begins, complete with soundtrack. This one is personal on many levels.

Butterfly Chains Are Making Noise – The aforementioned Act IV that everyone freaked out over got republished!

Seek And Go Hyde Act VI – The final Act in this story. Hyde takes over. It gets intense, a bit wild…and very messy.

WII Is WII – Has nothing to do with video games and everything to do with defining WIITWD. Curious? Read on.

Chain Of Rules Act VII – After two Acts of nipple abuse, it’s time to add spanking to Leigh’s chained misfortune…or is that fortune?

Pretty – A poem because sometimes you just want to fuck the pretty girl you wake up to.

For My Leigh – For the 200th post on The Dom Next Door™ I wanted to do something special. I did.

Just tiptoe on the way out…..ZZZZZZZZZZ.

– Scot

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The Looking Glass Act II

(Note – If you wish, you can listen to the same song that Leigh & I did while the following occurred. Just open the link in a new window)

To read The Looking Glass Act I

“So when the sun goes down
And those nights grow colder,
I will be there
Looking over your shoulder. “

– The Deeper The Love, Whitesnake

I couldn’t help but hear David Coverdale’s voice as I looked over Leigh’s shoulder. The sun had gone done, and the nights had grown colder. And there I was behind her.

Our eyes gazed into one another’s through the mirror’s reflection, a precursor of what the next fifteen or so minutes held for us. My face, only partially visible, floated above her left shoulder. There was a macabre quality to the way the candle illuminated my features with drama, some areas almost void. My right arm draped across her chest, the left around her stomach. Candlelight makes my forearms damn impressive, if I say so myself. It looked like a muscular snake had coiled around her nude form.

Leigh, on the other hand, looked like a goddess.

If you have read any of the stories I’ve shared, you know that candles are de facto to our play. The sputter and hiss of wicks singing anew are often the first part of the ritual, usually followed by the bedroom door being shut. Leigh and candlelight go together like peanut butter and jelly. They were made for one another, the sum greater than their parts. She glows under their flickering gaze. The blank canvas that is her alabaster skin becomes a masterpiece of erotic theater. Hues of pale tangerine and warm cream hint at its texture. Aside from the pale blue of the first light of day, she never looks sexier than she does when awash in candlelight.

Having a candle not even arm’s length from where we stood made her skin torturous. I wanted to devour her. The mmmmmmmmmmm of the vibrator’s RPMs would more than sufficiently do the same. In time.

“You,” I said trailing a kiss down her nape, “look incredible.” More dry bites, my eyes on hers in the mirror, my hands on each breast in the reflection. To feel her nipples harden under my touch, but see her whole body’s reaction to the same, was exquisite.

“So,” scraping my teeth across her arched neck, “fucking,” taking the opportunity to use my tongue on the same, ” beautiful.”

“Look at yourself” I exclaimed. It wasn’t an order, nor begging. It was shared excitement at the vision in the mirror, and I wanted to share it.

She looked into my eyes, not the reflection as a whole. The vibrator constantly hummed while a soulful melody filled the room.

“Not at me,” I said, “at you. Us. Look at how fucking beautiful you are.”

Her eyes left mine and joined her own in the mirror. She finally saw herself. Us. It.

Standing with legs slightly spread, her hand moved in slow, steady circles, each one a lap of her clit with the mini-vibe. Again and again the mmmmmmm faded slightly, each echo another tease. From behind, thick forearms enveloped her torso, their hands kneading each breast.

Leigh’s face was angelic in its slow surrender to her own manipulations. The music haunting us from across the room seemed all too perfect. Delicate, drawn out, the repetitious melody grew in intensity as the minutes passed. Her eyes closed as she sank back into my chest, each breath an escape. It was more prayer than seduction.

I really hope you chose to listen to the audio option provided to you. Perhaps you’ll get a small taste, a fleeting glimpse, a faint echo of what I was privy to as the first moans escaped her throat. If you chose not to, that’s your right and I respect it. I think you’re a fool, but at least a respected one.

The gestalt of the scene enveloped me in a hypnotic spell. Just as Leigh seduced her body with her hand, I succumbed to her siren’s song. Not one of lyrics or verse, but rather of spells and hints.

Leigh exhaled in drawn out sighs, indicating she was becoming aroused. It wouldn’t be long until they were replaced with moans or purring.

My eyes played leap frog. Mirror. Over her shoulder. My hands. Back to the mirror. Her breasts. My hands on them. Back on her face. Now at her face. Down to her hand on her clit. Then her arm using the oak dresser as support.

“Be careful,” I said, while moving the candle mere inches from where she gripped the dresser’s edge, “we don’t need to be explaining the kinky burn pattern to the EMTs when they arrive.”

She laughed, drawing some much needed levity.

“Yeah, it would be difficult to explain how I got burnt there…and there…and there” she replied, all the while the mmmmmmmmm of the mini-vibe kept perfect time.

Now it was my turn to laugh. We both smiled at each other’s reflection. Our eyes met.

Her moan brought us both back to the matter at hand. Literally.

I trailed my fingers down the length of her left arm, with which she held the dresser. Goosebumps leapt from her skin, their shadows easily discernible in the candle’s glow. As my fingertips danced across the thin flesh of her inner forearm she purred loudly. The vibe purred louder as well.

A nipple grew rigid between my fingers. My lips greeted her offered throat. We danced as lovers, not moving a single step, yet completely in time to the rhythm of the moment, a vibrator steadily agitating her clitoris. By her own hand. At that moment neither of us could imagine the lengths to which we were going to need to go to get to where she needed to be.

We were about to find out just how far that was.

A Peek Back 9-1

You guys amaze me.

In the span of a week not only did the blog crush the previous single day views record but also, with month’s end, saw the one for views in a month toasted by 40%. And it’s very likely that by sundown Sunday (great, now I’m writing folk rock) the views in a single week benchmark will fall as well.

At some point this upcoming week we’ll surpass 30,000 views. It wasn’t even last month that 20,000 was crossed.

You’ll have to forgive me for all of this, but it really does make me feel very humble.

It’s cool to see that people are getting it (stop giggling). And by that I mean our purpose – to demystify the stereotypical D/s and BDSM persona and help people embrace their inner Dominant and/or submissive. With coffee.

We truly appreciate all the love, energy, honesty and general pervertedness you share with us. Things we have shared have directly impacted the lives of others for the better. Perverts, er, people we only know via bits and bytes (probably some nibbles on their end but I digress). That makes all the time, effort and coffee poured into the stories, musings, etc. worth it. To know that, out there in the dark, a couple whose sexually embers had grown dim and cold are now inferno hot. Or that someone who took a chance and listened to that voice whispering inside them. You know, the one that drives you crazy with thoughts of BDSM and D/s? Now they are the ones writing tales that inspire others.

Or questions asked either in simple curiosity or outright concern, the answers providing some assistance in their decisions. All of which, to a T (or should that be a D/s?) impacts every other aspect of their lives and for the better.

So thank you. Seriously. A 21 cake salute will be consumed in your honor. Well, not really, but any excuse for cake is a good one.

If you’re a first time Peeker™, welcome!  You are invited to peek through the keyhole. We strongly encourage you to view all of the established Pages, which can be viewed by selecting any of the tabs at the top of this page.

The Archives are an inclusive, running version of every post of note on this blog. If you have not read any or all of the stories, random musings, poetry, etc linked from The Archives by all means please grab a seat, perhaps a drink (we’re big on coffee as you will find out) sit back and enjoy.

Before I get all teary eyed and want a group hug while singing Cumbaya, its time to Peek Back:

Interview With A Submission Vampire Vol.1 No.14 – In which I answer an extremely personal question that gets asked. A lot.

A New Monday, Same Ol’ Java – Sometimes I amaze myself how cognizant I can be so early on a Monday while mainlining dark roast.

Seek And Go Hyde Act V – Things get very intense and sadistic. This Act really pushed some Peekers™ comfort level. Read at your discretion.

The Words Of Power – A BDSM musing inspired by the reaction to the above.

Soundtrack To The Looking Glass – The beautiful, ironically titled song that accompanied the magic of the moment in time that became The Looking Glass.

The Looking Glass – Possibly the most personal scene Leigh and I have shared. Not what most think of as such. You’ll see.

Our Secret – My poetic response to that which was The Looking Glass. Figured out yet that this was something special?

Chain Of Rules Act VI – Leigh’s helpless nipples continue to be a source of pleasure. And pain. Lots.

Someone Shared Our Secret – When a professional Domme/Switch thinks your erotic poem is good enough to republish, that is a compliment.

The Dom Next Door Unchained – Gina West – Peeker™ & erotic author Regina West shares what she and her husband shared as a result of reading TDND™. See? You too can play along at home!

Once again, a sincere thank you to all.

– Scot

Our Secret

Rather than vainly fumble at

the obviousness of it all

seemed so dreamlike to be

in the shadows watching

your arousal feeding my

thirst for the moment when

the words flow from your

mouth like a waterfall pouring

your secret

no longer kept

my secret

shared with the floor and

the night flowed down

your legs rigid eyes wide mouth

hungry for more and

the puddle a testament to

how fucking beautiful you

really are you know

that I love you

pour into my eyes through

the looking glass the

silent witness to

our secret

– Scot (recalling what it was like to embrace Leigh from behind while she masturbated to our reflection in a candlelit mirror)

The Looking Glass

(Note – If you wish, you can listen to the same song that Leigh & I did while the following occurred. Just open the link in a new window)

“I have an idea.”

And with that simple statement by Leigh so began one of the most amazing sexual experiences of my life.

Odds are that the majority of you will find the following downright vanilla, to which I will think no less of your thinking “Really Scot? This was a Top 10 moment?”

It was.

But allow me to let you decide for yourself as I dim the houselights, raise the curtain and close the bedroom door.

The scene began in a darkened bedroom, illuminated only by a few select candles, two sets of burning eyes and one heartbeat. Our heroine, Leigh, was in the midst of a challenge proposed to her by her husband and Sir, Scot. Her objective? To masturbate to orgasm in front of him once a night for seven consecutive evenings.

At first she was a bit apprehensive. For all her sexual prowess and adventures Leigh, like so many other women, does not see herself the same way I do. She is always quick to notice flaws. A bulge here, a not as dramatic curve as she wishes there. And regardless of how excited at the sight of her nude form I become, no matter how often I profess to her in no uncertain terms that no woman has ever been more beautiful, in spite of all that we have shared romantically and sexually, she still all too often sees the half empty Leigh instead of the one full with my erection.

So I came up with a challenge to her. Not only would it be fun as hell but, hopefully, it would allow her to witness first hand (bad masturbation joke) how magnificent she really is by sharing with me and for me the one aspect of her sexuality that is her most private – her own satisfaction. Literally.

We fuck and role play and use cuffs and collars with chains. I can spank her exposed ass to a cherry red, abuse her nipples to the point of hysteria, even flog her into subspace. Anal sex, ejaculating in her mouth, half a hundred squirting orgasms in a single evening? Done all that.

But when a woman masturbates just for you, that’s fucking special. It’s the sexual equivalent of meeting her parents. Its as personal as it gets.

Not only is she baring her flesh but herself. There’s a difference. Big fucking difference. She is sharing with you something that, most likely, was her first way of exploring her sexuality. She probably discovered that women get wet when aroused while masturbating. And its a safe bet that this was how she discovered the ability to orgasm. Its extremely private and intensely personal.

Sure, many women grow the confidence and security in themselves, their sexuality and their abilities to not just share this secret from teen years gone, but use and employ it in their partnered sexual lives. No better way to make sure that everyone has fun than to bring your own.

But at its most basic it is still hers. Which is why I thought it would be a special way to share something erotic with Leigh. She would be forced to be at her most naked. No chains, no cuffs, no spanking, and so on. Just her and her sexuality.

The first evening she propped herself up on her side of the bed as I lay across the bottom of it. With Papa Smurf™ (aka a mini-vibe) as her preferred method of arousal she spread her legs wide and, over the course of about ten minutes, teased herself to the brink of asking me my favorite question:

“May I please come, Sir?”

The almost two minute long orgasm that racked her body rigid with lust was exquisite. The primal fucking session that followed produced a second one for her as well as my own.

And a side note for all you fellows – you can learn a LOT about your lady by watching her get herself off. Which hand? Where? How? Clockwise? Back and forth? Insertions? Speed or lack thereof? Direct contact or not? Did her torso tighten? What sounds did she make, and when? Her breathing patterns? You’ll save yourself a lot of time, grief and both of your’s frustration if you ask her to do this for you.

And for the ladies? Ditto on your guy. Just sayin’.

But back to our challenge. The second evening Leigh had me sit in the Pingback Chair™ in the sunroom while her naked form draped over our large recliner. A single candle she brought from the bedroom flickered on a nearby plant stand, just allowing me to make out the faintest outlines of her face as it contorted under Papa Smurf’s buzzing of her clit. Now I got to savor more of the non-physical. The sounds she made when becoming aroused, how her mouth contorted, the way her breathing changed. And once again she begged to come. Once again she spasmed for well over a minute. And yes, once again we fucked like wild animals afterward. That chair is big enough for two to lie across we found out. And her rug burns from finishing violently on the floor weren’t too severe.

How wild did it get? I left my socks on (no rookie to toe top rug burn here) and spun one around 180 degrees! As in the bottom was on the top of my foot!

The third evening she got creative and, while astride me, used Papa Smurf to make herself come with me inside her. I think the head of my cock was somewhere around her larynx from how deep I was. I know she was having trouble breathing during it all.

Which brought us to her saying “I have an idea” on the fourth night. And with that she stood up, got out of bed, moved a candle to the dresser in the adjoining open frame closet and stood in front of the 3/4 length mirror hanging inside it.

“Come stand behind me” she whispered as her pajamas hit the floor, leaving her in all her nude splendor.

Still fully dressed I complied. The view over her shoulder was exquisite. My arms coiled around her, hugging her tight. Our eyes met  in the mirror.

The click of the vibrator in her hand coming to life told me what her idea was.

The Looking Glass Act II

Scot The BILF…What?

When you read that I say I’m blushing, it’s not bullshit.

So when I read (about a month after the fact) that LSAM of Love Sex And Marriage nominated me for this:

BILF Award

I not only blushed at the obvious but also that I had been thought of so for three weeks and didn’t know!

Seriously? Me?

First, thank you so much LSAM! Their blog is one of the few, like ours, that shares the journey between a married D/s couple, and they do so with wit, eroticism, humor and honesty. If you are not familiar with them I highly recommend checking them out.

But a BILF?

I wrestled with this. Whatever comes across via words on a screen, I have never, ever thought of myself in any sort of -ILF manner, including as I type. I am Leigh’s husband, her guy, best friend and when the bedroom door closes her Sir.

And yes, I’m blushing right now as I grasp at words to convey how I feel.

But it would be extremely rude to not accept such a personal award based on my own views about how I see myself. It is by far the most unique one TDND™ has received so far. So, with a red face and a grin I humbly accept The Sexy Blogger Award.

According to the rules of this award, I am supposed to:

1. Post five sexy suggestions (Oh, thank goodness not more Scot Trivia!)
2. Post a link to my sexiest blog post
3. Nominate five other sexy bloggers
4. Let the nominees know they’re sexy

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Five Sexy Suggestions

– You do not need expensive toys to add spice and kink to your sex life. All you need is an open mind, some imagination and a little creativity. The entire premise of our BDSM On A Budget series is a testament to this. Kink was around long before electricity was harnessed. A collection of scarves can be a veritable treasure trove of erotic possibilities. Ice cubes can be objects that induce fear and arousal. As I have always said “Close your eyes, open your mind and your thighs will follow.”

– That said, do not let fear or timidness rule the bedroom. If you are curious about shibari, invest in some good books and DVDs and a shit ton of the best rope you can buy. Electro stimulation sound interesting? Hello TENS Unit, and not the bargain basement one. Sometimes a collar is not a collar, especially if its fur-lined with three stainless steel rings on professionally sewn leather. So what if you have to tell your best friend “If anything ever happens to me, get that fucking black trunk from my bedroom and toss it in the river ASAP!” Do not go quietly into the eternal night wondering what it would have been like to have had hot wax dripped all over you (or on your other) from the finest low temperature candles. Do it!

– Much of WIITWD is, if you think about it, grown ups playing very, very adult versions of games we all played as kids. Doctor anyone? Tie up games? Truth or Dare? See who can whatever for the longest time? Just because there are more lines on your face doesn’t mean you have to act a certain way. Embrace your inner child. Remember how curious you were about everything, especially “that?” How exciting the simplest things were? The amusement park your body was, with your imagination the “YOU MUST BE AS DEMENTED AS…TO RIDE” sign? Play with each other like you did when you had not a care in the world, but do so with the benefit of the years of experience you have and the rights you enjoy as consenting adults. It will do your heart, soul and reproductive organs good.

– People in better physical shape can fuck each other better, longer, faster, harder and more often that those who get winded taking the escalator. Think about that.

– Seduce your other. Have an affair with your spouse. Cheat on your mate with your mate. The embers from those early flames are still there. They may be buried under decades of ash from bills, a mortgage, maybe kids, but they still glow. Ironically, if you listen to the first four Sexy Suggestions this fifth one will likely just happen, as it did for us.

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Our Sexiest Blog Post

Wow, tough one to answer! It’s like asking a parent which child is your favorite?

While it may surprise you, I think the poetry I write for Leigh is the sexiest. Please visit The Archives for links to all the erotic poetry on the site. But if we (I asked Leigh as well) to pick just one story, we both have a soft (hard?) spot for Away Games. That’s the story that started all of this, the one we lived while the blog was getting eight views a day. It was a magically moment in our lives.

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Nominate Five Other BILFs

If you have anxiously read through all of the above waiting to read who I think is a BILF…

…you are going to be disappointed.

Unbeknownst to LSAM when she chose me, this topic is a strict hard limit of Leigh’s. When TDND™ started  the two of us, as we do when we scene, established protocols. These included social networking hard limits as far as to what manner or degree comments can go. In the early days of TDND™ Leigh would let me know if I was “yellow” or “red” with a comment either here or on Twitter.

What can I say? I fucking love the fact that she has made it perfectly clear that I am her guy and hers only. She’s selfish and protective and its cool. So yeah, I totally respect her wishes. I hope this did not offend anyone, but to be honest if it does I really do not care. She’s my doll, I’m her Sir, and that is that. And I sincerely hope that no one thinks any less of Leigh as a result. If you do, you are more than welcome to Unfollow us.

But let’s not end this on a sour note. I am sincerely humbled and, as you know, embarrassed to be thought of this way. Thank you again LSAM!

– Scot

Chain Of Rules

(Aside – the following transpired after the first time I received a manicure from Leigh, which was discussed in Finger Sandwiches)

It seems so ironic now, but very early in our courtship Leigh wore a collar just for me.

Well, not a collar per se. A choker. It was black velvet with the tiniest lace edging, a faux cameo adorning its otherwise minimalist appearance.

Allow me to backtrack to before Leigh and I met. I’ve always found chokers to be appealing, erotic, exciting. Perhaps this is due to how snug they are, or how they accentuate the natural beauty of the nape of a woman’s neck. Or it could be the chiaroscuro of that thick band against pale skin.

Or maybe it was my yet to be discovered inner Dominant whispering to me “It looks like a collar. She is wearing a fucking collar. She’ll do salacious things at your request, beg for more and thank you for the privilege of allowing her to orgasm.”

Regardless, I like the look. And Leigh was searing a lifelong memory into my brain. You know, one of those last 100 memories you will recall as the grains of the sands of Time all but empty into the bottom half of Life’s hourglass, upon which you discover all the time you tried to save throughout decades of effort sadly do not equate to a Bonus Round before the dirt nap.

Game over. Thanks for playing. Hope you enjoyed the ride.

So when that time comes for me, I already know that one dollar’s worth of memories out of my last Benjamin’s worth of time to spend will be when I saw Leigh in a choker for the first time.

We had only recently met and, even though hundreds of miles separated us, found a way to fall in love at first sight. A few months into the tornado that was our beginning I flew out to see her as a surprise.  In that I would need transportation from the airport she only knew of my intentions with a fortnight’s warning

After a restless night of little, if any, sleep I bordered the redest eye flight imaginable. It was so early bakers were still sleeping when I departed. Coffee ceased to have a monetary value. Need. Now.

I should have saved my money, for when I saw Leigh I was awake. Oh fuck yes, awake.

I remember the short-sleeved knit sweater, snug faded denims, boots that offered both warmth from the reality of winter as well as fashion. Her short red hair was vibrant in the early light of morning (it was her friend even then), and of course how her blue eyes were cliché with twinkling.

But my eyes fixated on her neck. That choker.

I. Was. Dying.

The ride to her house was delightful. Flirtations of the optical and aural sort, light touches with fingertips, lots of laughter which was still tinged with the nervous energy of beginning relationships.

For almost the entire three hour drive I stared at her neck, hoping the massive erection it was causing wasn’t too obvious.

I commented on her beauty and how nice she looked about 37 times. Yeah, that was me. Mr. Smooth Operator. Keep your smirks to a minimum, please. We all start somewhere.

sigh…

That weekend we fucked like rabbits on Red Bull and espresso. The first time, when she stripped down, may have been the first time I made a Dominating comment to her.

“Don’t take that off” I said as she reached back to unclasp it. It wasn’t a request or a plea, even though it felt like begging. In hind sight it was very out of character for me.

A slight pause, a wicked grin and it was left in place.

Over the following years she would, on special occasions, “choker up” for me. I always appreciated those evenings.

Which brings us full circle to the evening that precludes the remaining Acts in this tale. When she came to me nude except for her wrists and ankles adorned in black leather bondage cuffs, a three ring matching collar, her alabaster skin accented by an open silk burgundy robe, well it was if I was transported back in time to that car ride.

She still takes my breath away when she wears a collar. Every fucking time.

After my manicure I cupped her chin, raised her eyes to meet mine, and kissed her as if I was going off to fight a war on foreign soil in the morning. My right hand, the same one that makes her nipples hard, ass blister and cunt squirt, cradled her jaw like the finest porcelain.

Our kiss ended when her eyes reopened to find the pointer finger of that hand curled snuggly inside the main ring of her collar. A playful tug reminded her of what was in store for her that evening.

The Chains™.

Chain Of Rules Act II