Blogging A-Z Challenge: K

K is for kneeling

There is something wonderful about kneeling. As a submissive, I want opportunities to demonstrate who and what I am. Kneeling is one of those. But kneeling on its own is somehow not enough. I need to be naked while I kneel before him, while he is clothed. Opportunities like that don’t come along every day, but when they do they should be taken and enjoyed.

The only real problem is that this older submissive has knees that don’t really like kneeling. Plus a back which gets stiff easily. Getting down onto the floor to kneel is easily, getting back up is another thing entirely.

So while I love the idea of kneeling and jump at the chance to do so. It isn’t something I can do for long periods of time. Luckily this submissive doesn’t have a dominant who insists I spend my life kneeling. Though he too loves it when I do. Kneeling on the bed however is a whole different pursuit entirely. Especially when clamps are attached to your labia and your ankles  secured to a spreader bar. But then that is a different story too

Happy Anniversary

My 54+ years have contained highs and lows. In the main, the highs win over the lows. I am a half full rather than half empty person. I enjoyed a happy childhood with loving parents who tried to give us all that they could and two great but highly irritating brothers. Generally they hardly knew when they were well off – a sister who looked after them, ate their food to allow them to get down from the table, wrote their thank you cards post Christmas, told mum when they had hit her…….well maybe not that, but anyway.

My marriage was mainly positive despite his unfaithfulness, general inability to provide for his family and to make decisions. Plus the fact he was entirely absent during the first 3 years of my sons life. I guess that being a mother has been the main part of my life, before I met Master, when I have felt fulfilment. I make no excuse for saying that my greatest achievement in many ways has been producing and bringing up my son. He made me laugh when I was sad, he made me cry for mainly good and proud reasons. I am beyond proud of the young man he is now.
But when it comes to love and personal happiness the past three years top everything.
On 1st February 2014 I met the man who is now my Master. We had only been chatting online for a week but something about our interactions (plus the fact that we lived within 45 minutes of each other) made us decide to meet up.
The rest is history.
There is a lot I could write here, but much of this blog details our journey, the highs and the lows, not that there are many lows even if you were a half empty person which Master is and I am not.
Today, day 1 of February Photofest 2017, I am posting a photo that Master took of me waiting, ready for his use. Something that demonstrates the highlight of the life I now live as Master’s owned slave.
                  

 

Kneeling in your 50’s

One of the key things a slave does is to kneel to their Master, right? There are numerous, neigh thousands of pictures online showing submission in action; a slave kneeling.

Often He is clothed and she naked. There are specific positions that slave presents herself to her Master in, perhaps with her thighs spread, leaning back onto her heels, her hands rotated to expose the palms or else with her hands behind her head, so that He can see His property.

But what if kneeling in this way is something that you as a slave want to give your Master,  and it is what He wants to receive, but you both know that kneeling in such a way is nigh on impossible for more than a couple of minutes.

There was a time when my body was flexible, pliable and supple. There was a time when my life as a nurse hadn’t caused my back to become stiff and my knees to become sore. There was a time when I was young and slim and when my muscles where taught. Though I have to admit I have never been particularly fit and athletic there was a time when I was slimmer, fitter and more supple than I am now.

But in this new life of Master / slave I crave the ability to kneel. I want to be able to forget that my knees and thighs will ache. I want to be able to pretend my back won’t be stiff. I want to imagine that I can maintain the required position for longer than 2 minutes. But the reality is that kneeling for too long means it is difficult to get up, it means that afterwards I will walk like I am 100 not 54 and it means my back will be sore.

So, realism is the thing.  I can kneel for longer on a cushion than I can on the floor. I can sit at His feet longer than I can kneel. Plus I can sit next to Him and still suck His cock, I can sit next to Him and still submit.

My submission and slavery are not dependent on my ability to kneel for longer than 5 minutes, though I would love to be able to. When you are fifty something realism is something you both get used to. But you can still dream.

From segreti

 

Random stuff

This weekend we have made some significant progress towards being ready to sell my house. I hired a skip and Master and I spent yesterday mainly filling it with stuff from the garden. My ex was fantastic at moving and removing things but often anything that he didn’t want to put into his car and take away to the recycling centre he just dumped it into the garden. All of that stuff has been removed, along with any over hanging bush or tree. There is still time to add more stuff to the pile but already I feel closer to my final destination.

Last night I did something which in hindsight was stupid. I messaged Master’s former slave to ask if she was ok. What I received, after an affirmative response was something of a rant. Apparently He lied to her, He treated her badly, He only got divorced because it is me he is with now and not her (rubbish as his ex initiated it as I had already told her). The funny thing is that while message after message came through to my phone, I was busy elsewhere. Instructed to kneel before Him and take His cock in my mouth.  It was only this morning that I read back what she had written. I have now taken her off of my Facebook and messenger and won’t make the same mistake!

Kneeling at His feet last night, naked I took Master’s cock in my mouth and was instructed not to suck. Holding that wonderful organ in my mouth without sucking it in was difficult. But at those moments when His control over me is paramount I tend to follow instructions to the letter.

My compliance is less so when we are apart. I have a set of rules to follow, but don’t always comply. Why is that? Probably, I need that day by day attention, need to be made to focus on my role and purpose. That is just one of the reasons that I am concentrating on the job in hand, in getting myself ready to move in with Master.

Just one reason. I love the closeness we have now. I love that we can do things together.  I know that I want to be in the position that I can serve Him every day. I know that I am on the right path and Master is helping me get there.

Back to basics

We have been enjoying a wonderful summer together. A trip to France in May was followed by our holiday in Sicily, then there was a weekend away to visit my brother and then last weekend apart. Me with my mum in France, Master with his daughter in Amsterdam. In between there have been nights out, the theatre, the cinema, meals, trips to the pub…..

Often we have had little time for sex, a need to get up early, or getting home late and falling into bed. Plus of course the little matter of needing to prepare both our houses for when I join him in his. We get on really well together, we have no problem in living a vanilla existence. We can sit together reading, discussing current affairs, we don’t really need to argue and so don’t. We are maybe more tolerant of each other because we respect each others point of view even if we don’t agree with it. We love each other and we fancy each other. Of course, the relationship is not quite like it was at the very beginning. But it could be.
This weekend we got back to the core of what we are about as a couple. Master and slave. We reconnected in a way that we really haven’t given time for in quite a while. Plus we still managed to get out, travel to London to see a play, eat dinner and have a lovely walk back to the train station.
But while we were alone together here, things were different.
He decided on  Friday night and again last night when we got back that I needed to be naked. He had me kneel before him and suck his cock. He had me wear one of the leather harnesses (It was a bit on the loose side, so the diet and exercise is paying off) and he was clear about how I should address myself and him. I was ‘this girl’ once again and he was Master and also Lord; he really loves me calling him Lord, but I do stumble over it. Not because I mind calling him Lord, but too many films and books mean I am confused as to whether I should call him my Lord or just Lord. It sounds weird in a way that Master doesn’t (but I digress).
We have had amazing sex. Kinky, horny sex. I have been permitted numerous orgasms, many more than the tally currently written in black ink on my tummy. I have had a prize from him, one that I received while he was deep inside me this morning. I have also been required to pee on him, though this weekend not the other way around.
We have talked about the fact I have a contract and rules that I don’t follow and discussed how we can get that back on course. I know what I need to do, the rules are few and they are simple. But this is a two way process and he has promised me that he will also make sure we keep making time for the kinky side of our life. The pain and the pleasure, the Dominance and the submission. Master and slave.
This weekend has been relaxing and it has been busy. We got back to basics and it is clear that we do have time, we can have it all.

A reconnection

The trip to Sicily was amazing, but it was busy. We walked and walked, often up hills or steps, and we saw so many amazing things. We drank wonderful beer and wine and ate some amazing meals. But most nights we fell exhausted into bed (often it was a different bed from the night before) and in the morning got up early enough to grab breakfast before moving onto the next wonderful place.

We had a lovely weekend in Agrigento, in an apartment. For 3 days we were able to come and go, eat and drink what and when we wanted (mainly simple breakfasts of fruit and yoghurt plus good coffee with hot milk!) and know that no one was going to want to come in and clean the room (or whatever). We had our busiest day while there, when we went to visit the Greek temples. It was hot and very sticky, and the day was a long one, we walked miles, including in the evening since the nearest restaurants were half an hour away (on foot, as we wanted to be able to have wine etc with dinner). The next day though, which was Sunday we went to the supermarket and bought food and wine for dinner so that after an afternoon of sightseeing we were able to grab some down time.
At the end of the following week we found ourselves at a wonderful, very classy hotel in Palermo. Here we experienced a little bit of luxury; lovely breakfasts over looking the sea, drinks and nibbles on the patio and a couple of hours by (and in) the pool. But the hotel was quite a way out of town so we needed to use the hotel shuttle or a taxi (as previously mentioned we only walked it once!) to go anywhere and once out in the morning preferred to stay out until after dinner.
We returned from holiday invigorated, and probably fitter. I put on 3lb, (probably due to beer, crisps, nuts and olives which we tended to eat at lunchtime since they came with the beer), but have already lost 2. The holiday was active, but not tiring even though we were busy. What we didn’t have much time for though was sex or any real opportunity to play. I mostly wore underwear, to prevent chafing and other effects of 30c (and higher) heat.Then last weekend we were also busy with a concert on Saturday and then a friend visiting from Holland Sunday and Monday. We had a lovely time showing her more of London and on Sunday we had a lovely meal in a family run Italian restaurant, thank goodness such places still exist in London. The train home on both nights was around 11pm.

During the week we expressed our frustration abut how the M/s side of things seemed to have been lacking for us both. For me it felt that I was failing as His slave in some way, and he expressed to me that perhaps he wasn’t doing his job as Master well. However the reality is that we are experiencing real life. You can’t have it, well not all of the time.
This weekend has been different. We have had plenty of time to spend having sex and in rediscovering my submission and His dominance. I have been on my knees for the first time in ages worshipping Master’s wonderful cock. There has been plenty of sex, many orgasms and a lot of time just reconnecting with each other. We have also had time to sit and do very little, I have left him to some clearing out while I went to the sales in town. He has cooked for us, and then we have walked to the pub. We have spent time talking about our holiday, remembering places, people and the wonderful things we did and saw.
We have taken tim to rebalance and reconnect and our relationship is all the better for the opportunity to do just that.

K is for ……….

Kneeling and knocking over your gin and tonic (more of that later)

Kneeling didn’t always carry the meaning for me that it does now. When I was in my late 20’s and early 30’s I was a district (community) nurse and in those days we spent quite a bit of time on our knees. In hospital the furniture is set at a particular height, which both allows the patient to easily move, say from bed to chair plus the height helps with the strain on the back. It was less often during that time that furniture was at the right height for either, though we had hoists, blocks to raise chairs etc. However, I know I spent quite a bit of time on the floor, on my knees. Sometimes this was about getting closer to the patient, holding their hand and in the absence of any where close to sit, I would kneel. Other times it was about dressings, often to the legs. Rather than bed, I would kneel.

All of that is a long time ago and I am no longer 30 something. My back gets stiff and painful from my nursing career and it is less easy to jump up from my knees. Plus, when I kneel my back aches.

However the desire to kneel is great.

 

There is nothing more special that when Master demands: ‘On your knees girl’. Often this means He wishes me to suck His cock. Or perhaps He just wishes to exert His Dominance and authority over me. There is something about those words that make my knees weak and allow sinking to my knees all the easier. If naked He might request I spread my knees apart so that he can feel the slickness spreading between my legs. Sometimes He will place a leather collar around my neck, or perhaps put on a harness. Somehow the combination of those things: the collar, the kneeling, feeling my cunt will almost bring me off on the spot. For me kneeling is part of  my submission, all more special because I don’t do it so often, or for long. Half an hour like that and it is difficult to actually move. The mind is willing but the body is knackered!

It has been a busy working day and I was later home because I was helping my son with the sale of the car he was given after my dad died ( it didn’t happen but that is another story). Dinner out of the way, the clearing up done, I sat down to write this post and sat for a moment wondering what word to include with Kneeling.

I glanced out in the garden and noticed in the dusky gloom, the towels I put on the washing line yesterday and which were too wet to bring in last night due to the showers I didn’t predict. I jumped up, thinking I would sort that first. I put one foot into my boot (which I had helpfully kicked off near to the sofa; oh how lazy you become when living alone) and somehow knocked over my lovely glass of gin and tonic!!!

So as I cleared up the mess and refilled my glass before bringing in the towels I named the second part of this post; K for knocking over your gin and tonic!