Chapter Eight:
NATURAL PROGRESSIONS

So, back in Croydon the need to share some of the things we'd learned grew stronger. Nothing to do with trying to corrupt or convert people you understand, just an increased awareness that there were a lot of folks like us around if we just knew how to meet them. Oddly enough a Pen Pal in Stockholm put us in touch with a couple who lived 20 minutes down the road from us and one thing leads to another, doesn't it. They knew a couple of couples and over a few social get-togethers the confidence grew. We discussed the practicalities of having a more formal group with regular meetings and pre-planned agenda. We decided on a few rules and codes of practice and it wasn't long before we took the risk and advertised.

I'd been Secretary of an amateur Drama Group and Malc and I were both on the Committee of the Bowls Club ... and the administrative side of it was no different and we weren't offering anything illegal. Of course we kept a sharp eye out for newspaper reporters trying to join, but prospective members were well vetted. I've not spent 30 years in Personnel and Public Relations for nothing.

This was a particularly rewarding period for Malc and me. We had experience and knowledge other people could benefit from, and we never stopped learning. The Group brought us into contact with a whole cross-section of possibilities we might never otherwise have stumbled into. And although talk not action was the name of the game at meetings, that didn't mean to say our social interaction with individuals met through the Group didn't, shall we say, spill over somewhat.

I'm not going to give you a catalogue or blow-by-blow account of this natural progression but meeting different people with different preferences gave us not only information but occasional hands-on experience. Particularly when it came to equipment, there were things we'd never have thought of buying but having had an opportunity to try it ... well, for example ...

One nice couple from the Dorking area (let's call them Rita and George) were very much into corsets. That was something we'd seen in magazines but never encountered in the flesh (if you'll excuse the expression). In advance of inviting them to give a talk to the Group Malc and I went to visit them socially. During the evening they were very proudly showing us their collection, and Malc says to me that I'd look good in a corset. Well, I wasn't any slimmer than when we were married but I wasn't much fatter. So Rita says to try one on ... her's wouldn't fit me but one of her husbands' would. Well, I wasn't flattered but I didn't want to be a spoil sport so I whips off my frock and Rita puts this contraption on me and laces it so tight I could hardly breath. It did wonders for my boobs and hips but nothing for my digestion. No wonder Victorian ladies were always fainting.

I think Malc was quite intrigued because he started looking through this corset catalogue George had and I says firmly “If you're thinking of ordering one of these get it in your size, mate!”. George thought that was a wonderful idea and out he whips this heavily boned and strapped man-sized corset. I suppose Malc didn't like to be unsociable so he strips down to his briefs and lets Rita and George lace and strap him into it. I said “Now you know what I mean” but his old pecker was trying to rip his underpants apart and Rita said “Oh, we'll have to do something about that, won't we George.” Malc caught my eye but neither of us expected what was coming next. The corset had attachment points for a through-the-legs piece that tucked all his masculinity into a sort of solid crotch box and then sort of ... depressed it. Before we knew it he was looking like Danny La Rue below stairs.

Well ... perhaps if we hadn't already had sherry before and wine with our meal he might not have gone along with what followed from there. Rita and George decided on the full treatment for him; make-up and wig, black stockings and a pair of George's best high heeled shoes topped off by rhinestone choker, earrings and long black gloves. He looked fantastic and he couldn't take his eyes off the mirror. Eventually, all he said to me was “Have you ever thought of becoming a lesbian?”.

Talk about broadening your outlook: it was around that time we also met a few people who were really into Chastity Belt games. Not just over night anti-masturbation devices but long term for weeks on end. The different psychological control and domination games centred around restricted access to your own body and bodily functions can be mind blowing ... a book could be written about it. I've even sat through 'The Sound of Music' locked into a chastity belt when our Melanie was in it for the local Operatic. First time we got somebody to give a talk on Practical Chastity Devices at the Group Malc said he wished he'd known they were available when he was on the Rigs because he'd have bought one for me. It's funny isn't it, how you tend to threaten somebody with something if you'd secretly like to try yourself. That can signal the threatened person to go ahead and turn the tables. That double bluff situation is something you learn to recognize in a lot of 'power exchange' games. Certainly Malc and I soon got good at it ... and we like to do things together. So, chastity belts, lockable clothes and controlled access to our own bodies became part of our games.

There have been times when I've had him trapped into his diving suit for three days on end. He once told me that Air Sea Rescue teams wore urinal bags inside the regulation waterproof Immersion suits so they don't have to keep taking them off and on during long tours of duty. Malcolm got all the gen from copter pilots taking them to and from the rigs (Shades of Andrew McG!). Diet control and a butt plug can also prolong the time a suit can stay on. Nowadays I also insist that Malc wears his restrainer belt inside so he can't get an erection or bring himself off when I'm not watching him ... but then I like to watch him. I've had him working in his workshop all weekend and sleeping in our play space there, trapped inside his diving suit including face mask (which now locks so he can't take it off). Intense? Yes! Sexually stimulating ... you bet! And I know that most of the time he's sweating and melting away there he's dreaming up something diabolical for when it's his turn to get his own back. That's how I like it.

Something else we never invested in in the early days was actual custom made bondage equipment. When we modified our double bed so it had attachment points in the early days we thought we were being pretty daring. The first time I saw a D.I.Y four poster made of builder's scaffolding it slightly blew my mind. Actually having a separate play space rather than a trunk of toys under the bed is beyond most people's resources, especially if they've got families. But it's amazing what you can do with a little bit of imagination. We actually knew somebody who got a local government Home Improvement grant to open up and insulate their attic and then used it as an SM playroom. Certainly if you're good at Do-It-Yourself the dedicated SM games player can save a fortune. Creative imagination seems to be something most people we know who are into this sort of thing have.

Of course Malcolm having the machine shop and access to welding gear has meant we've never been short of the odd shackle and attachment point around the house, garden and garage. But of course that doesn't mean to say we weren't tempted by the professionally made paraphernalia from Bondage Equipment suppliers. The leather wrist and ankle restraints I sent away for were only the first of a series of purchases. Other modest accessories such as gags, blindfolds and our first leather hood made us feel very committed. If any aspect of playing SM games is accumulative it's picking up bits of equipment. Over the years we've accumulated so much junk ... but that's only like any normal household isn't it ... except that you can't have an S&M Jumble Sale ... well, we haven't yet!

When it comes to fetish clothes, like I said, conventional erotic-type slinky vinyl cat-suits or form fitting full body latex outfits have never been my preference ... perhaps because my figure isn't exactly classic. I can tell you from experience that a five foot five high black latex dumpling doesn't look exactly appetizing. Because we're both more into real gear rather than sex costumes means Malc is well provided for with his diving suit, bike waterproofs and a black oilskin naval Foul Weather suit if he fancies a session of sweat and struggle. One of his favourite kicks is to be out of doors warm and waterproof all wrapped and strapped up helpless all night in the pouring rain. With me cosy and warm inside our little camper van somewhere in the wilds of the Surrey countryside everything is possible.

This chapter's been rambling on a bit but I guess you're getting a clearer picture about where we're at and how we got to be where we are today. The story of our development's about up-to-date except for the changes in our lifestyle since both kids got married and moved out ... and now this temporary setback in terms of legal interference with our private lives. Where to go from here I've no idea ... but the future is in the lap of the Gods ... and “Tomorrow is another day” as Ethel would tell you. If she hadn't become a nun she could have written scripts for BBC TV.

Anyoldway, never having written a book before I'm not sure how to end it. As you will have gathered, I'm not really a writer. In fact this book wasn't written ... it was talked. I said it into a tape recorder and Malc typed it out and tided it up a bit (a bit!). You might be interested to know that, because I needed to concentrate hard and get in the mood for each session of recounting our story it became a routine that Malc got to go down in some sort of wrapping and strapping so he couldn't interrupt my train of thought during a 'Session'. We agreed that these would be regular four hour slots because it took me a while to get going. Naturally, he was as happy as a pig in the proverbial with the arrangement. Only thing was, by the end of a 'writing' session he was about ready to get let loose, just when I'd had enough of writing/talking/thinking and ready for a bit of action ... and, of course, he was in no position to argue ... which is really the way he likes to be. So ... where was I ... talking about knowing when enough is enough!

END CHAPTER 8

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