Obedience

Does obedience come easy for me?

In so many ways the answer is no. At work I hate being told what to do, I prefer to be in control, have freedom to act. Not that I don’t invite comment and advice, but I am not keen on being directed. Luckily my job carries autonomy and my manager has better things to do than tell me what to do (most of the time). I was the bossy sister and I am a bit bossy with my mum (if she allows it). But take me out of those situations and I crave control. I don’t particularly want to make decisions, which is lucky since I am now with someone who wants to do just that. Master has a great knack of controlling the things we do and the way we do them. That isn’t to say I don’t have choices, of course I do. But I rarely challenge the over all issue the choices are about. I am not sure some people would recognise me as the same person when I am with Master.

Which of us derives the most pleasure from my obedience?

He loves the power that comes with being the Master. He loves to know that he has control over me. For him this provides sexual excitement, particularly when the control involves elements of my body. But for me also I almost need to know that he is there making decisions for us. That responsibility for the things we do lie with me. The sense of sexual fulfilment and personal happiness I have right now are as a direct result of knowing that I am his slave and he is my Master. In turn that helps me with the way I manage my professional life.

Are there consequences for disobedience?

Funnily enough I am rarely disobedient. But then we are not really following any specific rules right now. I don’t often argue about the decisions he has made, partly because anything important has been discussed anyway. However I do challenge him from time to time. When I do he calls this being bratty. This seems to be a loose term for anything I say that he considers to be so. Moaning, being negative, challenging his world view, suggesting alternative ideas are all being bratty. We don’t do punishment and I am happy with that. That is because there is little to be punished for, but also because he is a little lazy.

Did I really write that? That statement is, I am sure, very bratty.

SCC Writing is a Tumblr blog that contains lots of prompts for submissives along with the posts written in response.

His kinks and our plans

There are many ways in which we are on the same wavelength when it comes to kink. Being his owned slave is probably the main one. While I am naturally bratty and rebellious, I love the way that he takes control and keeps me within defined boundaries. I am at my happiest when the boundaries of our relationship are clearest to us both.

Pain as a way of him exerting control is important, but it is not the main thing. Control of our sex life, and the power it gives him is. He loves to catch me unawares and to suddenly tell me what to do – get on my knees, suck his cock, bend over, strip off. Whatever. He loves the gadgets of kink, the violet wand, the bindings and blindfolds. They have an amazing effect on me. I love the way in which he surprises me with new ideas, new toys. I love the control he has over me.

He loves tattoos and piercings.  He loves women to wear slutty clothes and to expose themselves in public. I have the piercings – nipples and clitoral hood. On occasion I wear something a bit slutty and am prepared to show myself to him in a public place.

Sometime over the past three years or so though we have settled into a comfortable place. We talk about more piercings, about tattoos. But they haven’t happened. In the main I don’t leave the house without underwear as I used to, and the times I expose myself in public has reduced in frequency.

Partly this is due to life – work, caring responsibilities, social life, being a middle aged couple (and any other excuse you might mention). In many ways, though it feels as though I have just become complacent and lazy. Also just a little tired as work and caring plus keeping up with our social life takes its toll.

A quick look at his Tumblr blog tells me however, that his kinky fantasies remain as they were. I have to admit they are mine too. I really do still want more piercings. I would love to walk around, knickerless with weights hanging from my labia. I would love to cut my hair as he really wants. I still want that tattoo. I want to be the slut he desires.

What I need to do is to take control of my life. Or to get into a position where he truly can take control of my life. We are still waiting for my ex to sort himself out. For he and his lady love to be ready to buy my house. We are close, but not quite there.

Meanwhile I really am planning my exit from work. Preparing myself, those around me and the work itself for that day. I have given myself a deadline of early March when I will hand in my notice. By then, my mum should be living nearer to my brother and be less of a burden to me. And I should be preparing to give myself to Master properly. If the ex isn’t ready by then, well something different will have to happen.

I want his kinks to be my kinks, but I need to make some changes here for that to happen. I have a plan, a real plan.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Being naked

The idea of spending several hours completely naked in public freaked me out. Stupid really since this is something I wanted to happen. Ever since I found out about play parties where the male Dominant is fully clothed and the female submissive naked, I wanted to try it. I am an exhibitionist, I do like to be naked for Master and wanted to attend a play event.  But theory and reality are two different things and yesterday I faced that head on.

The car journey, me wearing a little dress and cardigan with nothing underneath, passed far too quickly. We arrived just before the doors opened at 2pm and having to wait in the car made me feel even worse. So much so that I actually told Master I wasn’t going in.

But, as people started to get out of their cars I found myself following. Inside the building I encountered 3 or 4 entirely naked women, people helping at the event (as well as some clothed gents). My feelings of anxiety melted a little and I headed for the changing rooms.

Many women kept some clothes on, lingerie, stockings, shoes. Others sported chains or harnesses much like I own. I made the decision before leaving home that being naked would be best for me for this first day. Lingerie or stockings would be an easy option and kind of cheating. However those wearing more than nothing were pretty sensible as they kept warmer than I was able to.

Out in the main rooms, there were sofas for relaxing and various benches, crosses, pulleys for play. Most people brought implements and toys with them. As mentioned yesterday, I haven’t been well and so to avoid any temptation Master left his at home. While I was jealous of those being spanked, tied and played with I know that he had my best interests at heart. Plus it doesn’t mean that he didn’t sit touching and fondling his slave. I found watching others quite the turn on and know that next time I will be ready to be watched.

We met some great, very friendly new people and I discovered that I wasn’t alone in  being nervous about displaying myself to everyone else. It was good too to meet new people outside of the munch scene. To meet others who are part of a D/s or M/s dynamic. This felt a fun, but very safe place to explore this side of myself in a more public place.

By the time we left I was already looking forward to the next time. Thinking about what Master might do to me, how he might want to play with his slave. This morning Master texted me to tell me how proud of me he was. How much he liked displaying me to others.

I have to admit that I enjoyed being naked on public display much more than I even imagined I would. Next time hopefully I’ll be a little less nervous.

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

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.

Horny on Sunday

Leads to Masturbation on Monday. This post is the narrative behind yesterday’s Sinful Sunday post.

We had spent time painting, finishing off the walls in the hall and stairs that we had started before Christmas. Some areas were places that we had missed and others were scuff marks from things being moved in an out when my son stored his belongings in the house between flat moves.

Over lunch we discussed perhaps leaving the paintwork and getting someone in to finish the job for us. I want to get moving on the house sale, but don’t really want to put in the time and effort any more. We want to relax and enjoy ourselves at the weekends and also have some fun and a life.

Sitting on the sofa after lunch Master suddenly appeared in front of me, unzipped his trousers and revealed a hard cock. Of course I put down the laptop and leaned forward to take him into my mouth. He pushed the full length of his shaft into my mouth and I felt the tip brush the back of my throat. He instructed to just hold it in my mouth. As I did so, I closed my eyes and concentrated on the large phalanx filling me and felt my cunt begin to throb a little in response. Pulling away he instructed me to strip my clothes off and bend over. I took off trousers, panties and socks and bent over the sofa and he used his fingers to ready my vulva for his entry. I was surprisingly dry.

His fingers felt rough on my pink and dry cunt and he lubricated them by licking them. I exclaimed that I hate the way in which the menopause is having this kind of effect on my body and he acknowledged that the taste of me has become more intense. Not to be put off though he persevered with stroking me, caressing  my clitoris and pushing his finger and then two inside. Part of me wanted to pull away at that moment, sometimes I have to resist the urge to give in to the idea that my libido is reducing and that I can take or leave him. I am his slave and saying no doesn’t come easy, however he is a very understanding Master. But no, I wanted this, he wanted it and inside my body was telling me that it wanted this too.

Suddenly he was able to push inside through the tightness and I felt the juices suddenly flow. Not quite flood gates, but sufficient for the lubrication that was necessary. He felt for my tits and squeezed my nipples, and at the same time withdrew his cock and pushed back inside.

He withdrew and instructed me to mount him. I stripped off my remaining clothes and sat astride of him as he lay on the floor. His cock slid into my easily now, as I no longer tight and dry provided the necessary natural lubricant.

I felt an orgasm begin to rise from deep inside and he moved his fingers to the now engorged clit telling me that I could come in 10. He began to count down and I had to concentrate on the numbers so as not to release too soon.

Finally on the word CUM, I did so, the relief immense and the fluids gushing from me in the usual way. Not yet too old to enjoy sex on a Sunday afternoon and still feeling horny I settled down for a pleasant Sunday evening with my man.

 

365 Questions – Day 37; Torture

If you could do today over, would you change anything?

Maybe I wouldn’t wake up at 4am having a night sweat – the misery of the menopause – then I wouldn’t have struggled to get out of bed this morning. On the other hand, maybe I would change the day from one that I had to work, to one where I was tortured like this………

New Year Sex

This post was written on Monday, for Wicked Wednesday, however, I am currently without WiFi and am also unable open Rebel’s page. So am just posting it as an ordinary blog.

It was icy on Friday morning. Unusually I was working, but wanted to check into my slimming club to make sure that my festive weight gain was kept in check. As I dashed out after weighing in I went flying and landed flat on my back. I picked myself up and, slightly dazed walked a little gingerly to my car. There was no serious damage however, other than to my pride and luckily there weren’t many people around.

By early yesterday morning however, I was experiencing the full after effects – pain and stiffness in my back which while not acute was a little debilitating. In effect I struggled to turn over in bed and when I tried to sit up my tummy and back muscles decided to rebel. I was feeling about 90; what a start to the new year!
Master decided a back rub was in order and so I rolled onto my tummy and he began his work. He has a wonderful way of touching and massaging which is both relaxing and erotic. When you also have seriously knotted up muscles it is like you have gone to heaven. I could have laid there all morning. Suddenly he disappeared, returning with the magic wand. Applying it to my lower back and then gradually moving it around I settled down to enjoy the experience. Gradually my muscles seemed to relax and the aches and pains subsided (not that I had actually tried to move at that point).
Having finished this task he then decided to place the wand in between my legs. At this point I did roll onto my back and opened my legs to accept the wand onto my pubis and as close to my clitoris as I could get it. All discomfort in my back subsided as I felt myself growing wet, juices flowing freely. He counted me down an orgasm and even though he removed the machine before reaching 1 there was no stopping me. He asked what I wanted now, and I said “your cock”. He said that he would really like to take my arse, but felt that would be unkind as it would more than likely hurt. I was sorely tempted to offer it anyway, but knew there would have been little pleasure in it for me. He thrust into me as I lay in the missionary position and I wrapped my legs around him. He talked to me about the control he has over me and of the excitement he feels to be my Master.
I could feel myself creaming in a way that I don’t so often these days – blame the menopause – and for him that was even more of a thrill. He exploded into me soon after. Rather than settle into bed as he often likes to after sex he disappeared downstairs. Reappearing with two glasses of bucks fizz. Clinking glasses we wished each other a happy new year.
New year morning sex, a great start to 2017!

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.

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