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nrkeye

nrkeye - photo 1
nrkeye - photo 2

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I am looking to meet someone who would enjoy a regular but part-time, play-centered relationship. I am not a kid so I am not fooling around. I am interested in serious play where I learn from you as much as you learn from me. I want to take my time (and yours) and not waste a single moment. You are a sexually submissive woman who would like to explore her darker desires with some one like myself. You must be willing to listen and submit, but must also be willing to contribute to our escapades. For me, this is as much about communication as it is about physical contact. I would be most interested in someone who is slightly younger than I am, but am not interested in robbing the cradle either. This is an opportunity for the submissive who wants an intense play relationship but who does not want 24/7. I am married. Let's just get that out right up front. We share many things but this is not one of them. After many years of patient (and sometimes not-so-patient) discussion I have decided that even though we remain together, I need to have this in my life as well. Like I need oxygen, water and food. If that's not for you then that's fine - I have no intention of wasting your time. Thank you for stopping by and I sincerely wish you well on your journey and search. However, if you are someone who is seeking a safe, sane play partner with extras then perhaps you should give me a shout out. I do not expect to be called Master or anything corny or cheesy like that - I need to earn that trust from you as much as you have to prove your submission to me and that will only come in time. The journey is more than half the fun.

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10/2/2011 6:15:59 AM
Note - This is a very first draft of a short story. Here it is, typos and all. Let me know if you like it. Greta - Part One Greta remembered walking through the front door for the very first time. Her companion had unlocked the door with a series of keys, and then, with a quick turn of the handle and a light push he had swung it wide open and by the hand had led her inside. The small front room was furnished with a small leather love seat the color of deep plum. A small dining table had two chairs made of dark wood seated neatly beneath the forest green tablecloth. Tapered candles glowed easily in silver metal holders molded to look like winged cherubs embracing the stem. A dimmed sconce lamp gave a warm glow of illumination. There were windows, but heavy curtains had been drawn shut to cover any view out or in. With a quick glance around she could spy open doorways to other small tenement-style rooms. She easily identified a small kitchen and bathroom, but two other doors were half-shut and she could not make out what purpose they served. Although sparse, everything seemed neat and comfortable. He gently took her hand and led her to sit on the small sofa. He sat next to her still holding her hand in both of his. "I've finally brought you here," he began, "because you have assured me that I have your trust." Greta wasn't sure if she should speak or not, or even smile, so she simply nodded and hoped that was good enough. He smiled warmly back at her and continued. "I know," he said assuringly, "that it's difficult at the beginning with a new daddy." he gently rubbed her hand between his two palms. She felt a warm glow begin in her tummy. "I know, too, that your first Daddy wasn't a good daddy to you. I'm so sorry, I feel so badly about that." He lowered his eyes and slowly shook his head. His eyes rose and he held her gaze steadily again. "I promise you that I will do everything I can to be a good daddy for you. I promise I will do everything I can to make you Daddy's sweet little girl." Greta had entered her thirties with an empty, longing feeling when it came to sexual matters. Physically, sex was fine. It just felt as if there were some elusive something she couldn't quite put her finger on and define that was missing. She asked her boyfriend at the time to try out some kink and he seemed hesitant but agreed. They'd had a few scattered sessions of light bondage between the two of them but when she had asked him guiltily (though she had to admit secret excitement) for a light spanking and maybe even a whipping, the boyfriend had decided that it was not for him and he left her altogether. The next boyfriend agreed readily but it soon became clear that he saw her request for kink as a free ticket to unreasonably abuse someone and she quickly ended it, not without some fears of reprisal which thankfully never materialized. Increasingly disillusioned, Greta floated through a few minor relationships. She discovered her penchant for kink in its various flavors, some more intense than others, but despite the newly found liking of spanking, costumes, leather cuffs, blindfolds and much more (to her surprise and guarded delight) there still remained an empty space. So small that at times she felt she might be able to completely overlook it, yet most often appearing as black and hollow as the largest abyss. Until one night, during a more-than-usually inebriated session of semi-anonymous coupling, she quite unexpectedly began to shout "Fuck me, Daddy! Fuck me, Daddy!" over and over, again and again as a rolling orgasm moved and rumbled through her. Her male counterpart for the evening had immediately withdrawn from inside her, quickly dressed, and left without saying a word never to be seen or heard from again. But Greta had remembered her cries and her feelings at the time and had discovered that a door had been opened slightly for her. She swiftly stepped inside. She tried to recall exactly where she was emotionally when the orgasm hit her and the words began to pour from her mouth. What she was thinking and why that had prompted the words from deep within her. It came to her slowly. It was a smell, mostly. A mingling of odors to be exact. A perfect combination that had sparked memories tied closely to her desires and her needs. There was burnt tobacco. Not cheap cigarettes like anyone might buy from from a machine or a corner store, but fine tobacco with its sweet charred scent tinged with wood and cherry. Add a whisper of scotch. And the smell of a man's sweat and cologne. Reliving the moment in retrospection she was transported back to a summer of her childhood. She was eight years old and she had lost her father the summer before. She was told that he had gone to stay with the angels but all she knew was that he was never coming back again and the pain stung her heart every day. Greta's bestest friend during those days lived right next door. Little Maddie was a good friend and a sweet-hearted girl from a loving and kind family. Maddie's father in particular had a reputation as a warm and agreeable person. Greta adored him. That particular summer, on the long and warm evenings that would stretch through her distant memories, Maddie's father had made sure to include Greta in many of the mundane, everyday family rituals of suburban living. After a sunny Saturday of gardening and landscaping chores, Maddie's father would invite the young girls to sit on the front porch swing with him and enjoy the evening as it segued into night. Each evening he would have a fun activity for the young ladies; roasting marshmallows, catching fireflies, counting stars in the sky. And as the giggling girls would run about in the fading light he would smoke a fine cigar and sip a small glass of whiskey and ice. Towards the end of the evening as the stars became too numerous to count he would tell the girls stories of when he was a little boy to make them laugh and sometimes to teach a small lesson with a aesop-like moral. The girls would hang on every word and as bed-time began to approach Maddie would crawl drowsily into her father's lap as he sat on the front porch swing and doze in his arms until the streetlights came on and it was time for Greta to go home. Maddie's father always gave Greta a warm hug and a pat on her head before sending her back home to her mother and her own bed. Greta would wish that she had a daddy with whom she could fall asleep in his arms. On a muggy August evening, after an exhausting session of Kick-the-Can, Maddie, her father, and Greta had retired to the front porch for the finale to their summer ritual. As the game had involved much running and hiding and laughing, the girls were both a little more worn out than usual, Maddie even more so than Greta. Long before the evening's story was finished Maddie had begun to snooze exhaustedly in a small lawn chair on the porch next to the swing. Greta remembered discovering herself staring fixedly at the empty lap and wondering if it would be ok to take Maddie's place. Just this once. Her concentration was interrupted by a soft laugh from Maddie's father. Greta looked to see him gazing lovingly at his sleeping daughter and he turned to Greta and said softly, "Would you like to come here to listen to the rest of the story?" He patted his lap with the hand that held the stump of a smoldering cigar. Ice tinkled softly in the glass held by his other hand. Greta padded softly across the porch on her bare feet and curled gently into the special place usually occupied by her friend. The smell of the cigar and a faint whiff of hard liquor mixed with the aroma of clean sweat and after-shave, all blending with the summer night air. Good smells. Warm and safe. As Maddie's father continued with his tale of how his childhood friends and he had thought they had discovered gold in an old abandoned house, Greta softly wrapped her small arms around the man's broad shoulders and snuggled her tiny head closer to his chest. She did not understand why, but she was drowsily surprised and excited to discover that along her thin legs she could feel that he had a large and extremely hard erection. This is what love feels like, she had thought to herself. Maddie's father continued softly with his tale and, as Greta learned that all that glitters is not gold, she closed her eyes and swam in the sensations of of smells and the heat from the blood-engorged penis that her little bottom held firmly in position. If, at that time, she had known what an orgasm was, she would have defined it as this feeling which started in her heart and spread like warm honey through her whole young, little body. She felt for the first time a stirring between her own legs where she knew she was becoming a woman soon and was as happy as she had ever known. She made a wish that this would never end and promptly fell asleep. She awoke the next morning in her own bed and did not ask how she had gotten there. Since her mother showed no undue concern, Greta did not think that anything bad had happened and she still loved her daddy-next-door with all her heart. She would never have another opportunity to sit in that special place again. Until now, she hoped. She awoke from her reverie as if she had awakened from a child's dream and was instantly back in her present moment. As her thoughts focused again on the man who had brought her here she looked at him with the eyes of her eight-year-old self. Salt-and-pepper hair was combed neatly back so his features could be readily discerned. His face was older, fifty or so years of age, but softened by wire-rimmed glasses and a youthful, possibly mischievous, glimmer. The mouth was firm but easily melted into a gentle smile of even teeth that could warm with its glow as well as with its soft-spoken words. He did not have a heavy beard so his shaved face was as smooth as porcelain, its few faint lines were etched with care and precision. He was speaking softly again to her now and she wanted nothing more dearly than to sit quietly and listen. "Since we've both agreed to explore our budding relationship with each other and deepen the tie we feel between us, I'd like to spend some time just talking with you for a bit. Is that ok with you, sweetheart?" Greta nodded. He smiled and said, "Does the cat have your tongue?" And he tickled her briefly by playfully putting a finger to her tummy. "No," she replied, giggling and trying not to laugh outright; smiling back at him with a new light beginning to grow in her eyes. "Then it's ok with you if we spend a little time while Daddy speaks with you? I promise we'll play fun games in a short bit, but Daddy has some things he needs to say to you first." "Yes," she she responded softly and intently. "Yes, what, pumpkin?" he asked. He touched her cheek with his fingertips. "Yes, Daddy." His hand caressed her cheek and his fingers stroked her hair. He sighed, "You are such a good little girl!" and he leaned into her and kissed her full on the mouth, lingered for a brief instant and withdrew. Greta? Part Two Greta felt the blood run into her cheeks. She hoped that soon it would spread into other areas of her body; her breasts and between her legs. Her toes tingled slightly and she clasped her hands in her lap to keep them from noticeably trembling. Could this really be happening? Could her dream be coming true? If love were a flower it seemed to her that each sentence she heard helped another petal to unfurl and blossom. Greta realized she had been holding her breath and she forced herself to inhale slowly and then let it go. Daddy was speaking and she wanted nothing more dearly than to listen. "Oh, please, Daddy. I want to be a good little girl. You can tell me anything and it will be our secret. I want to hear everything you have to tell me." He shushed her warmly by placing a finger to her lips. "Hush," he said, "I know you are a good little girl. And I know you want to be good for me. And this is what I would like to begin speaking to you about." He removed the finger from her lips and again held her hand in both of his. "Every good little girl needs a good daddy, he continued, "A good daddy to teach her and guide her and show her how to be the best little girl ever." Greta nodded silently as she looked deeply into his eyes, returning his steady gaze. "A good daddy is important to his little girl. He is her teacher and her mentor and her instructor. He teaches and molds his little darling, correcting her mistakes with love and discipline and encouraging her to be more than she ever thought she could be. Do you understand what I'm saying to you, darling girl?" Greta was not sure she did and began to worry. Should she tell a white lie and say she did know when she really didn't? What if her new daddy was displeased with her answer if she told him the truth? She felt inside her tummy twist and begin to turn into a knot. To her surprise, her eyes began well up with tears. In a panic, she quickly shook her head. "It's quite all right, sweetheart," he gently chided her, "I don't want you to be confused. That's why Daddy wants to talk. To explain things. So that you completely understand. Do you hear what I'm saying to you?" "Yes, Daddy," she sniffed lightly and smiled sheepishly back at him. "Good girl!" he said almost in a purr. "A good little girl is as quiet as a cute little mouse when her daddy speaks. She listens and she does her best to understand. If he asks her a question, she answers plainly and truthfully but otherwise she listens to Daddy. If she does not understand she may say, 'Tell me more, please, Daddy.' do you understand me so far, darling?" "Yes, Daddy," she whispered. The spell had returned. She welcomed it and fell into it once again as her knot quickly vanished. "Such a good little girl," and he again caressed her hair. He smiled and continued speaking. "So good little girls know when to listen and they know when to speak. There are many things that a good little girl must know how to do and that is how we will be spending a good deal of our time together. With me teaching and you learning. Does that sound like fun, sweetie?" "Oh, yes, Daddy," she breathed thickly. "That's a good girl," he said. "Sometimes, though, even a good little girl like you can't help but be bad. Sometimes she is afraid of the lesson or sometimes she will be willful in not listening to her daddy. In that case, Daddy must be firm and Daddy must insist on discipline. Because without discipline a little girl cannot be truly good. Do you understand what your daddy is saying to you?" "Tell me more, please, Daddy." "Excellent!" he exclaimed, and for the first time his voice rose slightly in volume. He actually clapped his hands together as he spoke and Greta felt her heart swell with pride. She felt like a a little golden princess. "And that is fine for now as that, too, is how we will be spending our time together. I will instruct and you and we will both learn where your limits lie. If I see fit, I will expand your limits, sometimes against your immediate will, but hopefully with you eventual acceptance that your loving daddy knows best what is and what is not good for you. Isn't that true, my pet?" "Yes, Daddy," and she nodded eagerly. "Of course, it is," he grinned. "Now, your daddy already loves you and holds you dear and precious. As we spend more time together, this love cannot help but become deeper and truer the more I'm a good daddy and you're a good little girl." She continued to nod her head as he spoke, listening intently. She did not want him to stop to ask her questions. He did not need to for her sake. She doted on every word. There was meaning here for her. Most of what he had said so far implied so much more and she was captivated by the implication. She knew instinctively that this was the first lesson and that she must please her new daddy for it to continue and unravel to his liking and his pleasure. The heat she was beginning to feel from his eyes and his hands assured her that she was more than admirably passing her first lesson. Sitting on the small, low sofa, her skirt rode up over her knees. Daddy placed a hand on her bared thigh just below her hem and squeezed her lightly. "So if Daddy asks you to do something, no matter what you think, you should listen to Daddy. If you don't Daddy will have to be firm with you. Daddy may be forced to use discipline on you. "Now when Daddy uses discipline, he does it with love, not to just hurt someone. Do you understand me? Good girl. It's always for your own good. To help you to be a good little girl. The best little girl in the whole world. Isn't that right? Of course, it is. "We might discover that Daddy needs to spank you to shame you with respect for something bad or to motivate you toward something good. We might have to restrain you to deprive you of something bad or as a punishment. "But a good Daddy wants to be fair. And a good daddy would have to admit that even he isn't always perfect. Even good daddies make mistakes sometimes. "So a good daddy always shares a secret phrase, a secret code, with his darling little girl. Something only the two of them share with each other. So in case Daddy makes a mistake in judgement, his good little girl can let him know." It didn't occur to her to speak. The sound simply emanated from a place deep inside her. "They do, Daddy?" "Yes, sweetheart, they do. Would you like to choose our secret words?" She thought intently for a moment as she sought for words as rich as 'Open sesame!' or 'Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble!' Her face scrunched slightly with the effort as her young mind raced. "I have one," he ventured after a minute had passed. "Would you like to hear it?" She nodded eagerly. She was afraid for a moment that perhaps she had failed a small test. His look encouraged her that if this was a sort of test it was the kind with no real right answer. "Let's try the word 'Talkspace.'" he said. "Talkspace?" Her head tilted slightly to one side in slight confusion and curiosity. "It's a word that Daddy uses sometimes at work. A programming word. When programming a behavior switch, Daddy can use a variable called a Talkspace to switch modes without quitting the primary underlying process. Do you understand?" She shook her head slowly. "No, Daddy. To me it all sounds so? mysterious." He laughed sheepishly at himself and lowered his eyes. "That's all right. You don't have to know any of that. But your new daddy can be a bit of a geek and so the poetry appeals to me." his eyes returned to hers. "But it will be our secret word. Just us two. And if you ever say it, we will come back to this space. Just us. A good Daddy and his good little girl. "Your new daddy hopes that you never have to use this because you're being hurt, but if you are really being hurt I want you to say 'Talkspace' and Daddy will stop whatever is going on and we will go to Talkspace. It will be your own magical safe place. Do you understand me, sweetheart?" "Oh, yes, Daddy!" as he had spoken his last few sentences the heat she had felt slowly building had grown to a hot burn. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him warmly. It was a dream come true. He hugged her back and gently patted her back. "I know , I know," he whispered, "I feel the same way, little girl. Daddy's little princess. By being here with me you have shown me your trust and with our secret word I am trusting you to use it if you feel it best and to help me be a good daddy." He released her and held her back from him by placing his hands on her two shoulders. Greta did not know what was to come next. She realized she was holding her breath again and tried to relax. Her daddy was staring deep into her eyes. It felt like her soul. "Do you have any questions for me?" "No, Daddy, at least not right now." "That's fine, my darling, there will be plenty of opportunity to ask questions you have as we go along. I plan on speaking with you often to let you know what's in your daddy's heart and to discover what's in yours." "Yes, Daddy." And then in a whisper, "Are we going to play now?" "Some," replied Daddy, "We'll mix in some play with some practical matters we must attend to." "What practical matters, Daddy?" Greta did not knowingly alter her voice or mannerisms to attain an age much younger than her present personage. It was the innocent openness of her demeanor that defined her as a child. "Well, my princess, this is the first time we've been completely alone together. Your daddy would like to get to be familiar with you a little more intimately than has been possible until now. A good daddy needs to know everything there is to know about his good little girl. From top to bottom, inside and out. Things that nobody else knows sometimes. Would you like me to show you? Would you like to begin?" "Yes, please, Daddy." "Good girl! First stand up in front of me and let me get a good look at you. Daddy wishes to inspect his good little girl. Daddy wants to see if she's a good little girl from head to toe." He helped her stand by holding her hand but remained seated himself. She stood in front of him in the middle of the small room and bounced lightly on her toes with excitement. Her Daddy was going to inspect her! "Stand still, sweetie, and let Daddy take a good look at his little girl." Greta ? Part Three "Yes, Daddy," said Greta suddenly standing still and straight, her eyes eyes looking forward, almost a child's rendition of a military inspection. For the first time since sitting down, her new daddy seemed to fully relax and reclined, leaning back into the cushions of the soft leather love seat. From this vantage point he let his eyes roam over his new little girl's figure from head to toe and back again. He was smiling. Greta was an appealing woman. Anyone's description of her would have included the word 'pretty.' Her eyes were naturally round and wide so she often wore an expression of happy discovery without her being aware of it. Her figure was lithe and she wore the extended lines with which nature had blessed her in an unassuming manner that added to her girlish physiognomy. She could hardly attempt at anything but total honesty as her every emotion was expressed not only in her face but with every part of her body. Finding a man that was attracted to her had never been a problem. A man possessing the qualities for which she sought had always been the challenge. And now there was this man, her new Daddy, and he honestly wanted to get to know every part of her. She felt her crotch become wet between her legs.

1/22/2011 9:29:56 AM

OK. So here's what I *am* looking for: • A lasting friendship. • A serious play partner. • To get to know someone before fucking them. • Taking time to define the relationship we share during play so that both our needs are met. • Someone a little younger than me - late 30's to mid-40's is my target, but this is not a hard limit in either direction if I am intrigued. • Someone just to share some pervy-ness with since I have currently have no outlet for this aspect of my personality in my life.

That covers it for now. Of course, there are details and nuances, but I'm painting in broad strokes here and just wanted to balance my previous post on what I'm *not* looking for. Film at 11. More when I get bored again.

Feel free to reach out and say hi. But again, since almost no one reads this stuff I won't hold my breath.


8/28/2010 11:38:22 AM
Here's what I'm not looking for: ? A full time relationship ? A 24/7 experience ? To hop into bed right away ? You groveling at my feet after one email ? Empty sex or meaningless playtime ? someone outside Manhattan, Brooklyn, or Queens ? Someone searching for "that perfect someone to spend the rest of my life with" ? That's a fair enough list for now. Perhaps a compnion post later on listing some of the things I *am* seeking. I'm bored and since no one reads my profile anyway, I figure what the heck.

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lunaheartssocks
 
 Age: 40
 Newburgh, New York