Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek behind doors left slightly ajar. This week, The Submissive Woman Being Spanked by Two Doms. Female, 40, midtown, investor relations, straight, single.
4:30 p.m. Text from the Producer. He’s a Dom I met online at Alt.com last year while he was wrapping up a movie. We have an on/off thing, but currently have arrived at a point that we are friends with benefits and I know we will never be anything more than that. “Wake up please, I want to sleep next to you, will you let me in?” I have been asleep for a couple of hours, but I do love sleeping next to him so I say yes. I have to give him credit — he knows how to eloquently phrase a booty call!
5 a.m. My doorbell rings, and I sleepily open the door for him. As soon as I’ve closed the front door he pushes me up against it and kisses me. He was attending a kinky-play party; he tastes like rum and is a little bit drunk. He pulls my camisole down and begins fondling and sucking on my breasts. He places his hands on my shoulders and pushes me to my knees, takes out his penis and I start going down on him. After a few minutes, he has me stand up, turn around, and bend over, and enters me from behind. I really did not have this in mind when I agreed he could come over to sleep, but it quickly feels good and I am into it. I wonder if any of my neighbors are awake and can hear anything as I am being banged against my front door.
10 a.m. The Producer is snuggled against me. He’s half awake and begins to fondle my breasts again. He’s always good for a morning romp. He slides one hand between my legs and touches me until I come. After I’ve recovered he straddles my head, puts the tip of his penis in my mouth to get it wet, then grabs my legs and pulls them over my head and slides inside me. I enjoy looking up at this face in this position. He comes and we fall back asleep for a few more hours.
4 p.m. Late brunch with the Producer.
5 p.m. We hug good-bye. I can’t believe it’s so late in the day. Nothing productive happening today, so I head over to Soho and spend too much money on new bras at La Perla.
12:25 a.m. Can’t sleep. Break out vibrator for sleep-inducing orgasm.
7:00 p.m. Ooh, I am seeing Dom No. 1 twice this week, a rarity. We met on Alt shortly before I met the Producer. We have intense chemistry. I don’t know what it is … pheromones? There was an instant attraction when I met him and I had no idea how hot and brightly this would burn. I went on Alt.com two summers ago looking for a casual play partner to help me get over an ex. Nothing was really working (shopping, drinking, exercising, serial-dating, therapy). I thought maybe some kinky fun would help me move on, instead I found Dom No. 1 and my world has been turned upside down ever since.
7:15 p.m. Business dinner. Bored to tears listening to everyone talk about their kids, schools, birthday parties, etc. I wonder how happy these people in the suburbs really are. Do they just go about this life and not question it and just accept it? Are they happy with the choices they’ve made?
11 p.m. Terrible headache, so no self-pleasuring tonight.
2:25 p.m. Looking forward to seeing Dom No. 1. Lots of adrenaline flowing through my body, so I decide to go for a run.
7:30 p.m. Dom No. 1 is already sitting at the bar with a cocktail when I arrive. He is wearing a pin-striped suit and I just want to ravage him right then and there. We have great conversations, from the silly to the sublime. The problem is, I am always in this heightened state around him so that everything the next day is a blur. I should stop trying to make sense of it all and just enjoy the ride. I know that’s what I should do … and yet I can’t stop analyzing.
11 p.m. Taxi uptown to his place. He tells me to spread my legs and strokes me. Once inside I sit on the sofa and he unzips and removes my boots — I love how tenderly he removes my shoes every time. We stare intensely into each other’s eyes. If you could have sex with someone with your eyes, then Dom No. 1 and I would have perfected that by now. The moment he enters me is the most satisfying answer to the buildup that’s been happening for hours. I wrap my legs around him and dig my nails into his back. He does 90 percent of the talking while we have sex. We both fall onto the bed in recovery mode before he props himself up on an elbow. I run my fingers through his hair; I can never resist playing with it. I have extra energy and wish out loud for my vibrator to knock off a really deep orgasm.
12:30 a.m. Home, showered, in bed … break out vibrator and have a toe-tingling orgasm that puts me to sleep in minutes.
10:15 a.m. Still in a blissful daze from last night.
11:30 a.m. Log on to my Collarme.com account. Lots of emails, nothing of interest to me. Consider closing this account for now. I’m ultimately looking for a serious relationship, and I have given up on vanilla sites like Match and OkC because I realize I need a D/S element to any real relationship I have. Luckily I’m pretty good at weeding people out and have had mostly positive experiences on the BDSM sites that I use. I do worry that the intense feelings I have for Dom No. 1 prevent me from truly being open to finding a long-term relationship, but I believe when the time comes I will walk away from Dom No. 1 and the Producer for someone who is more available and looking for the same things. In the meantime, I will just keep having fun.
12:40 a.m. Decide to forgo masturbating for the next two days before I see Dom No. 1. I will be extremely ramped up by the time I see him.
4:10 p.m. Get in an online debate over this whole Rush Limbaugh “slut” quote. I’m very pro-slut and hate that it’s used in a derogatory way. What is a slut? Someone who likes sex? Someone who likes a lot of sex??? My theory is to get it while you can, because no one is going to be banging down your door when you are 70.
11:30 p.m. Laying in bed and realize I forgot to get back to someone on Alt; I had suggested we meet for a drink towards the end of the week, and tonight was my only free night. Oops.
5 p.m. Getting ready to meet Dom No. 1 at the theater. His request was to “dress sexy and wear thigh-high stockings.” I enjoy dressing to excite him.
8 p.m. We are seeing Venus in Furs. The power exchange that goes on in the play is intense and certain dialogue about power, cruelty, pain, and love hits a little too close to home for me. I shift in my seat, feeling awkward and exposed.
11 p.m. We have a lovely late supper at the Lamb’s Club. The fireplace makes it quite cozy for a rainy night. Dom No. 1 tells me he wants to use black silk rope for bondage. Who am I to disagree? We discuss which apartment to go to. He has to be up at 5 a.m. to pack for a business trip, so I relent and we taxi up to his place (this also means I’ll be the one doing the walk of shame/awesome). Making out in the back of a taxi is fun when it’s hurtling through NYC, but the quick stops and sharp turns test my balance in the back seat. In the elevator, he pushes me against the wall and slips a hand up my dress. “Is there a camera in here?” I ask. “Of course,” he replies with a wicked smile.
11:20 p.m. Inside, he unzips my boots, has me kneel in front of him and tells me to undress him. As I do, I tell him I’d like him to do something for me … I’d like him to leave me with marks so I have something to look at while he’s away. He removes his belt, tells me to bend over the bed, and starts hitting my butt with the belt, which really stings. After five, my skin is on fire but I can tolerate it; I’ve had much worse before. He touches me briefly, then says he’s giving me another five. I cry out in pain after this second set. He gets on top of me and tells me how I am his perfect possession, and he will let other men have sex with me so he can watch. Whether this will ever happen in reality is not the point; he knows this type of talk sends me over the edge. He comes loudly — I love how vocal he is, it’s so satisfying. We fall asleep for a few hours.
5 a.m. Dom No. 1’s alarm goes off. We usually have morning sex but that’s not an option with his schedule today. After I finish dressing, Dom No. 1 puts my boots on for me, zipping them up. I kiss him good-bye, and won’t see him for a couple of weeks. Sigh.
5:20 a.m. I get home, undress, and fall into my bed.
7 a.m. Can’t sleep, so I take out the trusty vibe and try to recall last night’s session. My brain is all over the place, and thirty minutes later I finally have an orgasm that leaves me breathless, heart racing … sleep.
1:30 p.m. I tell the Producer I am going to see Shame at Landmark and maybe we can meet up for dinner or something later that evening.
2 p.m. Text from E. Village guy who emailed me on Alt. We had good banter but he asked to reschedule our date, twice. After the second time I was over it. I ignore his text. He’ll get the hint eventually.
4:14 p.m. While I liked Shame, I wasn’t profoundly affected by it the way the Producer was. I know way too many men who are emotionally stunted; they’re a dime a dozen in New York, it seems. I get off the subway near my building, and a text from the Producer says he’s done hours earlier than he thought. I ask him if he wants to come over and take a mid-afternoon nap with me. He’s on his way. I like that he sleeps as much, if not more, than I do.
5:12 p.m. Dom No. 1 texts me from the airport, asking how my backside is. I take a photo of my butt and lament there are no bruises. “Next time,” he responds. Grrrr. Two weeks without that rush is not going to be fun.
5:30 p.m.: I pour the Producer a beer and open a bottle of red for me. It’s not long before he coaxes my head into his lap. I go down on him until he comes, and he spanks me while I do. We chat for a while, and soon he has me bent over the sofa as he continues to spank me. I’m still a little sore from the belting the night before and I instinctively put a hand out to stop him. He grabs my arm and pins it behind my back and continues spanking me before he enters me. Then he fucks me. He requests rope, and I bring him a jumbled ball of it. He chastises me for keeping it in such messy condition. I watch him sort through the various strands of rope; I love how methodical he is. He ties the rope around my torso and breasts. When he is satisfied with the results he has me bend back over the couch and we have sex again, him holding the rope in one hand, with the other digging into my hip. Afterwards I have him take a photo of the rope work on my back and I send the photo to Dom No. 1; I know he will like it.
Midnight Back from dinner, the Producer is sleeping over. He’s great to spoon with. I’m a side sleeper and he snuggles next to me, cupping a breast with his hand. This is my favorite way to sleep with him.
TOTALS: One elevator grope (on camera); two taxi make-out sessions; two spankings (one with hand, one with leather belt); two acts of anal sex; three acts of fellatio; five acts of intercourse; three orgasms via vibrator; one orgasm via hand; one orgasm via intercourse, one session of shibari; one act of voyeurism; two days of a self-imposed moratorium on masturbating; two failed date attempts.
Would you like to take part in the glorious tradition that is the New York Magazine sex diaries? Just send an e-mail to email@example.com with your contact information and why you think you’d make a good diarist. If you’ve got what it takes, we’ll be in touch!