Brat

From Kinky.com:

“Brat is a term for the BDSM role of a bratty submissive or bottom. Unlike the common conception of a submissive, a brat talks back, misbehaves, and is otherwise difficult”.

I admit it.

While I am always keen to please, I also argue and talk  back. As far as Master is concerned, I am something of a brat.

Let’s be clear here, I don’t set out to disagree. But I have opinions and need to get them out there.

Trouble is, my opinions are not always wanted or needed and so I am labelled as a brat.

That does not mean I am not a slave. In essence, I always comply and follow the rules laid out. But it would also be true to say that I want to discuss what those rules are. Or else I am keen to know where boundaries lie.

He both loves and hates my approach to living within the boundaries already set out. He both wants my compliance and also wants me to challenge.

But he is my Master. So I really do want to strike a balance. Even when I am being the brat I crave correction. Unless of course there is no correction necessary.

Does that make me a brat?

Reflections on us and the blog

We have been together for 4 years in February. By anyone’s judgement that is a proper, long term relationship. We still don’t live together, but tend to spend more time together than apart. When apart we Skype, so contact is daily. We have settled into a comfortable existence that is as much about ordinary mundane stuff as it is about kink and sex. To prevent this blog from becoming dull and boring, somewhere along the line I stopped writing so much. After all, who wants to read about us sitting on the sofa with a bottle of wine chatting about our next (or last holiday)? Time perhaps to reflect on our relationship and the blog?

Sex for us is often similar in the way it plays out and while far from boring, writing about it feels quite repetitive. We don’t play as much as we did for a variety of reasons. Time and our social life and holidays are part of the reason. Laziness might be a factor too. I wonder if my lack of blog posts is laziness too. Maybe I just need to get off my arse (as it were) and write stuff about us. I love to look back and see what we have done over time. I know Master does too. But if I don’t write about it then we can hardly do that!

I often post photos for Sinful Sunday that have a back story. Quite rightly, I keep those posts short since Sinful Sunday is about the photo. But rarely these days do I go back and fill in the gaps. This feels like a mistake. Take this photo, that I posted a couple of Sunday’s ago. It stands alone as an image, the beautiful colours, the light streaming in onto the bed and spreading across my face. Spread out naked, exposed. Clearly I didn’t take this photo (unless I used a timer). No one else is in shot, but I know that the other person in the room is responsible for me wanting to lie there naked. Still in the throw of ecstasy.

While we were away over the past couple of weeks our libido, missing for much of the year returned. That morning he had awoken and demanded I move to the edge of the bed so he could lick me out. The photo was taken many orgasms later. I don’t think we had penetrative sex that day, but as is often the case that didn’t matter. This is a happy sexy photo, which screams contentment. It occurs to me that my life with Master is good and deserves to be written about. I am planning to do much more of that. My November challenge for myself!

 

Tired

I so want to write, I have so many ideas. But to be frank, I feel tired. Being ill at the beginning of the month has left me tired. Working and the relentless pressures of being an NHS manager leaves me tired.

Hang on, a manager in the NHS and you are tired? Surely managers do nothing but sit around in meetings, sponge off of the state and go home! For those of you reading this from outside of the UK, I work for the health service. Contrary to popular belief I do pull  my weight, do more than go to meetings and answer a few emails and then go home. I don’t deny I am well paid, better than I ever imagined as a nurse, but I do work hard. I work harder than I did when in clinical nursing, not physically but expectations are higher.

My mum makes me tired. Tomorrow, it is 3 years since my dad died. I have done my best to provide the support needed and my brothers do help. But she relies on me much more than I want and need her to. It isn’t her fault, but it is a fact.

Things with my ex have improved significantly. He has stopped telling me he misses me and wants to try again. He has stopped analysing what went wrong. Stopped fussing. I am however still waiting for his partner to sell her house so that they can move in here. Tired of waiting, but I have promised to wait a little longer.

I want and need to move in with Master, but he still needs time to declutter and be ready. That is of little consequence since I am not yet ready to move in with him. But I am tired of waiting.

I need to begin to put myself ahead of others. I need to give up my job and take a break. But I need the money from the house sale so I can afford such a luxury. I need to move in with Master and be with him, but I need my ex’s partner to buy my part of the house to enable that to happen.

My mum is hopefully moving house, closer to my brother. I need to be relieved of the responsibility for her on a day to day basis and hopefully that will happen soon.

Meantime, I am tired and when you are tired, it is difficult to find the words to write.

Excitement and fear

It’s a long time since I had a new D/s related experience. We are settled in our life together, and much of what we do around the D/s or BDSM area is tried and tested. In the main we keep that aspect of our lives separate from other people. This week we attended one of our local munches, we are acquainted with many of the people at that and other events. But we only know those people in a relatively vanilla place. We haven’t attended any of the events of which they speak. We haven’t been to play parties with them. Up until now we have kept ourselves just that little bit separate.

Today that is going to change. For the first time we are going to a Clothed Male naked female event. In for a penny in for a pound! The idea of wandering around naked while Master is fully dressed in a suit is theoretically fine. But when the other females are also naked and the other males smartly dressed?

Will I be cold? Will I feel self conscious? Will I want to gaze at the bodies of the other women? What will we do while there? I am a bit nervous about my ability to experience too much in the way of play today, since I have been ill for much of the week with a virus and a cough. I am on the mend and no longer feel ill. But we both know that I am not fully fit at the moment.

He asked me earlier if I am going to make him proud today. I always try to do that and know that I will do my best not to let him down. I want to enjoy this new experience. I want to embrace the excitement I feel about going to this event, but I am also fearful. Those two feelings are not dissimilar in the way they manifest themselves inside us and time will tell which wins through. Whatever happens this will be an interesting day and there will be experiences to write about here. That can only be a good thing.

What’s my name?

For most of my life I was only called by my given name, Julie. I hated it when people shortened Julie to Ju, it struck me as lazy and uncreative. A family friend called me Jools, and for a while that stuck. As a young teen at the time it felt grown up, and smart, unlike Ju. After my marriage I became JJ and tended not to mind that either. But my parents called me Julie, as did my husband and most other people around me.

5 years ago, when I embarked upon this journey, one involving illicit sex with a bit of kink thrown in. I called myself Joolz on the various websites and on my new blog. The people I met at that time either didn’t know my real name or chose not to use it. To them I was Joolz.

But when Master and I met, 3 and a half years ago now. He saw me as someone else. To him Joolz was someone who was a bit scary, who had been struggling to find her true self. Joolz was someone in transition from Julie to……….. But who.

He wanted me to refer to myself as ‘this girl’. As far as he was concerned, my journey as a submissive needed to include some introspection about what and who I was. By removing the need to think of myself in the first person or as Julie the mother or daughter, the submissive inside would feel more real. At the same time he was of the opinion that Joolz was someone who had belonged to another, someone who had rejected me. By letting go of Joolz, I let go of that part of my past. Gave myself fully to him. Allowed myself to be absorbed into his ownership, to become his property.

Gradually over time this girl has become girl. He called and does call me girl. At times he has admitted that he has struggled to remember that I am also Julie. A 55 year old girl? Yes, but not any girl. His girl, his submissive and his slave. I do still refer to myself as ‘this girl’ but mainly during sex or play. The rest of the time I just know who and what I am, even when people call me Julie. I know I am His girl.

A new day, a new year

Today is my birthday, and as I enter a new year of life I somehow find myself ready to blog again. The past couple of months have been somewhat quiet here. Save the occasional, writers block post Sinful Sunday has been my only regular offering.

Last week’s Sinful Sunday post, a spur of the moment shot of Master changing a lightbulb naked  was rated in the top 5 by Molly. It is those kind of shots that really are the best. Therefore this week, since I have taken no photo involving stairs (this week’s prompt) I am taking a rest.

Instead I am happy to report that our sex and M/s life is resurrecting itself. Or rather, perhaps we are finding the time to get it going again. Since holiday we have been busy. Weekends away, stuff to do around the house and garden. Plus we both seemed to have returned from holiday with a strange malaise that wouldn’t seem to shift. Master has a painful shoulder, which I hope he will seek medical help for soon. This weekend though, we have shoved all of that aside.

Two mornings in a row we have had sex. Raw, just woke up and wanted to grope and kiss each other sex. Yesterday, my eyes were barely open before I found myself on my knees before him, sucking his cock. This morning I was awake first, reading birthday messages on Facebook when He began to finger my clitoris. Then he went down on me, orgasms flew through me in a way that I haven’t experienced in months. Mindful of his shoulder pain I have been on top more than of late. I had almost forgotten how wonderful that feeling is, his control from beneath me is something to behold.

As recently as Friday I was wondering if I was still his submissive bitch. Something in the things I said, and my body language that night seem to have seemed through. To us both. We have reminded ourselves of who we are to each other and that feels really good.

Sinful Sunday will resume here next week, meantime if you read this please do click on the lips and see the great photos everyone has contributed this week. But for me, today I will enjoy my birthday and savour the thoughts of yesterday, this morning and all the days to come.

Sinful Sunday

This drought

It is a ridiculous amount of time since I last blogged. The last time the blog drought was a month was, well I can’t remember.

On 16th June we went on holiday to France. A much needed break after a crazy past few months at work. I have been carrying a project while also doing my normal work for 6 months. In that time I have had a change in manager, dealt with the politics of a wider work regime change and generally got on with things.

But it isn’t just work. I have spoken before about my lack of libido. A busy work life and lack of time to recharge certainly hasn’t helped. Master has a bad shoulder (for the second time in as many years) and so our play time is also curtailed. The M/s part of our life is there, but it is implicit rather than explicit. Even to us.

I have had few ideas for blog posts and so over recent month kept to posting memes. But this isn’t what I want my blog to be about, really I don’t.

The holiday

We travelled to the Alsace-Lorraine area of France, passing through the battlefields of the Somme and Champagne region on the way. 16 days of time together, exploring new places, seeing new things and trying new food and wine. I found the experience of the Somme, most of which we covered in a day, extremely moving. The remnants of a war fought a 100 years ago. Then onto towns and cities where wars have been fought over a much longer time period. Castles and fortifications, churches and cathedrals. Places where we felt like we were in Germany, but the people were speaking France.

We were busy, packing lots of activity into each day. The feeling of tiredness subsided and the thoughts of work in the main left me. We often don’t have much sex when we are away. Not because we don’t want to, but because our preferred time for sex is in the mornings. And the mornings are often busy with getting ready to move to the next place, or else trying to fit breakfast in. Lame excuses but not really important. Things are good between us, so it doesn’t matter.

Or does it?

Home again

Back into work on Tuesday last week and I seemed to pick up the momentum just where I left off. By Friday afternoon I felt completely exhausted again. Perhaps not quite in the same way as I had when I left for France. My head was and is still clear, but I just feel weary. The hot weather this last week has added to it. So this last weekend has been one of pottering around, eating and drinking. Pleasantly reliving our holiday, discussing the highs and few small lows.

There has been no sex and no overt kink. I haven’t initiated anything and neither has he. I don’t think there is any thing wrong, but perhaps we need to discuss this? Perhaps as usual we will find our mojo and get back to it.

The blog

This blog is not about memes. I love to participate and to look to see what other sex and kink bloggers are writing and posting. But I don’t want this blog to be just about memes. This is meant to be a place I go to write about myself and my relationship. When nothing much is happening in my life other than work and drifting through a weekend, there is little to say.

But maybe there is a bit of chicken and egg to this. Perhaps I need to write and express my feelings about the lack of sex and play. Maybe I need to write some fun and sexy stuff to help us get in the mood. Maybe I need to write. Maybe by writing then the energy and zest for my slave life will return.

This has to be a start

slave stuff

There was a time when pretty much all posts on this blog were written in the third person. Each sentence that might have used the pronoun ‘I’ began instead with ‘this girl’ or ‘she’. This blog was about a personal journey, about being trained and about learning how to please and serve Master. Somewhere along the line, that part has been lost from this place.

Never writing in the first person became challenging. There were occasions that I seemed more appropriate and gradually I replaced she. This girl, the slave was lost from the conversation.

But perhaps it is time to bring her back. Perhaps she needs that aspect of her life to get back to the slave she wants and needs to be. There is, deep within this slave a yearning to reclaim the structure and the rules. To focus back on what was agreed at the beginning of our relationship and part of that is acknowledging that this slave has no specific name. That she should refer to herself not as I but to recognise her status as an object or possession.

This girl

He always refers to her as girl. She is without a name, she is His slave. She is good at complying with the requirement to refer to herself in this way during sex or a scene. Less so at other times. The blasé way in which this girl approaches her slavery has led to other lapses in behaviour and often in forgetting her place and role.

These include wearing underwear (it is often cold and anyway the middle-aged body needs support), not wearing the butt plug, not asking if clothing is required. This list could go on.

But there is no chance that this girl has completely forgotten that she is His slave.

Being His slave always

He is Master. She rarely thinks or refers to him as anything else. This girl thinks about Him constantly and does consider whether the actions she takes are something he would be happy with. This happens most often at work, a place where he is never with her. She often takes time to reflect and wonder what he would say if He had been present.

There are times each day when she touches the tangible symbols of slavery. The collar, the nipple jewellery and sometimes even the clitoral hood piercing. They serve as a constant physical reminder a way of grounding one’s self.

When Master and slave are out together there are rules that are always followed. He keeps control of any tickets or passes. He takes total control in restaurants, though there is often discussion about choices. Plus at any time there is ambiguity, or the potential for disagreement it is His word that is final.

Master is Master and slave is the slave. But this slave feels that now is the time to back to basics. Back to what was agreed at the beginning and back to blogging for its original purpose.

Going forward there will be more posts where the pronoun ‘I’ is not used.

The realities of life

It had been a busy week. Work was as frenetic as usual, and by Friday followed with daughterly responsibilities. When did it seem a good idea to become part of the social committee at my slimming club? After all, Friday afternoons with mum are stressful enough.

But by the evening the half a pound gain was behind me. Mum had been relatively restrained in Marks and Spencer’s. The traffic was kind. And yet.

Master showed me the new swing in the play room. Yes a swing. Thinking about it, he had made mention of the purchase the previous week. Somehow though, that knowledge had disappeared into the recess of my brain.

Kneeling before him as he demonstrated it’s finer points I sucked his cock and all seemed good.

But naked, exposed, sitting on the seat, I wasn’t sure who I was. Whether I was worthy of him. His slave or an imposter?

I wanted to love and enjoy his new toy but something made me want to curl up somewhere with a bottle of wine instead. Trying to distract me and turn me on, he licked my pussy, squeezed my nipples and stroked my clitoris. He used the words that usually make me melt; the ones that reaffirm our M/s dynamic. My head responded but something held me back. My body was unresponsive, he said otherwise but my brain told me so.

Memories of sex with my ex flooded my brain. Perhaps I am the frigid person he had exclaimed me to be. Maybe this past 3 years has been a dream?

Climbing down at Master’s request, we lay naked on the bed. We talked and we held each other.   I don’t know the reason for my sudden freak out but know I am not frigid. I am the sexy woman Master loves, I turn him on, and please him. We love each other, and he certainly makes me horny. In the future we will have fun on that swing.

We moved on to christen the new jacuzzi bath. To have fun and to enjoy each other’s bodies. We drank sparkling wine together and talked about what might have been wrong. I came to the conclusion that if the bath had happened first events may have taken a different course.

I wanted so much to have a wonderful tale to tell about the swing and to have photos for Sinful Sunday. But rather than looking back on these memories as a failure I know that our love is not just about kink it is about being there for each other. About recognising when we need reassurance from the other.

The story about the swing in the playroom is still to be told along with the corresponding pictures. Just watch this space.

One of those update posts

The strain of blogging every nearly every day for the Blogging A-Z challenge left me needing a break. I am so enthusiastic at the start of these memes but time, bad planning and the challenge of obscure words can get in the way.

But it’s time to move on and get back to reality. The February Photofest and Blogging A-Z Challenges are behind me. Time to move on through the year, develop some discipline and post spontaneously. It’s 2 months since Eroticon and I still haven’t got around to making the changes I said I would. No space so far for fiction, and generally my creative juices are struggling to emerge.

Life around here has been pretty full on, what with work, family and social stuff. Add a holiday into the mix and stir in Master’s new bathroom* and you get the picture. Not that any of this is an excuse, since over all I am pretty lazy when not doing any of the above. *N.B He has people in to fit the bathroom, though I helped out in choosing accessories. There are still towels, bathmats and a little cupboard to be considered.

We are very aware of the need to instil a bit more fun and play into our lives. Plus of course sex. The joy of spending more time together this past couple of weeks has included time discussing how to inject energy into our relationship. Plus to rediscover things like anal sex, which we haven’t done for a while.

This week he bought me a leather bra. Something I can wear under my clothing or else on its own around the house. The leather is beautifully soft and comfortable to wear. Master has a real fetish for leather gear, well he just has a real fetish in reality! Summer is on the way, though it isn’t too warm around these parts yet. But the opportunities to get out an about and to have some fun are emerging. Plus he has promised more dungeon time for my birthday in August.

Lots to look forward to and hopefully the opportunity for fun and games on top of normal life.

Summer here we come!