Welcome to the first in my new series of real, raw, and unfiltered stories from the world of a modern, empowered widow. I’m Nicky – Manchester-based entrepreneur, proud bisexual, polyamorous woman, and founder of WidowsFire.
Five years ago, I lost my husband. Since then, I’ve been on a journey to rediscover my sexuality, my confidence, and my appetite for pleasure. I’m sharing my stories openly, because I believe it’s time we talk honestly about what widows really want.
Let’s get one thing straight: my favourite flavour is definitely not vanilla – and I’m not talking about ice cream..
A little about me: I run three businesses, manage teams, and spend my days making big decisions. But in the bedroom, I crave the opposite. I need someone else to take control. I’m a proud submissive, and my late husband and I shared a marriage built on trust, honesty, and a fabulously filthy connection. We explored every aspect of our desires together – BDSM, fetish wear, toys, restraints, and more. He was my safe space, my sub space, and he knew exactly what buttons to push.
When he died, I lost not just my partner, but my sexual confidant. Disposing of our collection of toys and gear felt like extinguishing a part of myself, even as my “widow’s fire” burned hotter than ever.
Eventually, I realised I wasn’t ready for a new relationship, but I needed physical connection. That’s why I created WidowsFire.dating – a safe space for widows and widowers to find no-strings fun with people who truly understand. I loved being able to be upfront about my “specialist interests” and to connect with others who get it.
After a few video calls and dates (some disastrous, some delicious), I found friends with benefits who respect my boundaries and desires. I’m honest, open, and always up for new adventures, sometimes one-on-one, sometimes more, if the chemistry is right.
Now, my toy drawer is restocked, my lingerie collection is thriving, and I’m living life on my own terms. I know what I want, and I refuse to feel shame or guilt for seeking pleasure. Life is short, and I intend to savour every moment.
So, here’s my story. Now, I want to hear yours. You can share anonymously if you prefer – each month, I’ll pick a favourite submission to feature here (with your permission), and the winner will receive six months of free premium access to WidowsFire.dating or a £100 gift voucher.
But now, for my latest fantasy…
Part 1 – Plans for the Weekend
A card arrived in the post, his handwriting unmistakable. Instantly, a flush of desire and anticipation washed over me. That’s the power he has over me – and he knows it.
Inside, the card read:
“Babygirl, it’s time… I’ve booked a suite at the Dakota Hotel this weekend. Clear your diary. Train tickets attached. Packages with further instructions will follow in the next three days. Follow my directions to the letter, my darling, or there will be consequences. – Master”
I gasped, thrilled and delighted, already imagining a weekend of sensual torment, luxury, and surrender. I knew I’d be teased, tied up, punished, and ultimately worshipped and pleased beyond my wildest dreams. In return, I’d be the best Babygirl I could be.
Moments later, a WhatsApp message:
“Babygirl, I know you’re excited, but you must promise me you won’t touch yourself until the weekend. The next person to touch your pussy is me. Make me that promise.”
Hot with desire and frustration, I replied, “I promise, Master.” Thus began days of delicious torment.
That night, I lay in bed, desperate to give in to temptation, but determined to obey. My toy drawer called to me, but I resisted, falling asleep with a head full of filthy thoughts.
The next day, an Amazon parcel arrived: two new toys – a pink vibrator with a tail designed to press against my clit, and a perfectly formed vibrating butt plug. Master knows my tastes well.
Later, another message:
“I trust my gifts have arrived. Put them on charge for Friday. Do not be tempted to sample them.”
“Yes, Sir,” I replied, aching with anticipation.
The following day, a beautifully wrapped package from Victoria’s Secret: a black lace corset, matching thong, and suspenders, all sparkling with silver. The scent alone was intoxicating. I snapped a photo for Master, who replied, “On Friday, you can show me just how grateful Babygirl.”
By Thursday, my desperation was peaking. Master grew distant, replying to my texts with teasing crumbs of attention. The anticipation was exquisite torture.
Friday brought a TEMU parcel – his favourite for “special interest” items. Inside: leather straps with padlocks (to keep my Vivienne Westwood heels locked on), and a slim black leather collar engraved “Babygirl” and “Property of Sir.” The thought of him locking it around my neck made me shiver with excitement.
A final message:
‘Tonight, pack your case with everything I’ve sent. Then run yourself a candlelit bath, fill it with beautiful scented bath bombs, shave completely, you know just how I like your smooth pussy. Then I want you to dry and rub that scented body lotion you know I love all over yourself but DO NOT touch your pussy then sleep well Babygirl I want you rested and ready for the weekend ahead’.
I nearly came just reading his plans. I love a man with a plan, and I couldn’t wait for the weekend to begin…
She thinks she knows what’s coming, but Master always has a few surprises up his sleeve. Next week, the power dynamic shifts, the stakes are raised, and Babygirl discovers just how far she’s willing to go to please her Master.
