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.

Blogging A-Z Challenge: L

Last year I wrote about limits, love and lust. Having read it back, it is one of those posts that on reading again makes you glad you keep a blog. What about this year though? This year, L is for labia

L is for labia

This is not an area of my body that I had given much thought to. Partly because you can’t really see your own labia very easily without a mirror. Master though is very interested in inspecting all aspects of his property. That includes the inner and outer folds of the vulva, as well as my clitoris. According to this cosmopolitan article the labia majora are 7-12cm in length and the inner, labia minora 2-10. Who measures their labia? Obviously mainly people who read cosmopolitan magazine. I’ve never measured mine, but suspect they are longer than most. The outer labia have also been stretched from time to time with weighted clamps. Surprisingly this doesn’t hurt particularly and I find that it makes the inner labia and clitoris more sensitive.

It would be great, I think to get my inner labia pierced, a nice accompaniment to my clitoral hood piercing. I suspect this would be a painful procedure, but probably worth it. I really do need to get around to having it done rather than talking about it.

 

Submissive Coffee Club #226

Piercings 

We had only been together for a couple of months when Master told me that he would like me to have some piercings. Interestingly this was something I had also wanted for some time. I had discussed the idea with a previous Dom, but the time didn’t feel right for me and certainly that relationship was’t.

This time, Master and i discussed our ideas and they appeared to match up. We agreed on both nipples and clitoral hood. I was clear at the time that these would be my piercings, and while he came with me, I did the research and paid.

However, from the day that I was pierced they felt significant to us. They were real, but also a symbol of something that we both shared. They signified something I had been willing to do for him. A confirmation of my submission and his dominance over me. This feeling has continued.

Of course, such piercings are only as permanent as you wish them to be. If I removed my nipple bar now, the hole would probably be closed within hours. However, that probably isn’t the point. I really would like more piercings, and we are considering ones to the labia. These would be more significant, more painful and perhaps a little more kinky.

We have also discussed a tattoo. I held back on this for a long time as it was a feature of his previous relationship. Plus I am nervous for reasons of pain and permanency. However, I feel I am ready to do so. This relationship is as permanent as any can get and I know it is something he would like. For us it would be a real commitment.

From my point of view, commitment to the relationship is important, however equally so is that you both want this body modification. I may be a slave, but ultimately it has been a joint decision and something that has been for me to agree to.

pierced nipples – the reality

Getting on for 3 years ago I had my nipples pierced. It was the first sign of my submission to him and something I had thought about for a long time. In many ways it has been a fantastic experience, a source of erotic discovery. It has made my nipples more sensitive and it has made me feel sexy at a time when my body is changing through age.
But finding the right kind of jewellery to wear has been more of a challenge. I have discovered that buying online is fraught with difficulty, what size ring or bar should you buy? How can you insert a ring when a bar was put in place by the piercer? How do you get those little balls in place (yes how do you do that when your manual dexterity isn’t what it was and you can no longer see the damn indent).
How to do you open and close the rings? How can you stretch those nipples? Which jewellery looks the prettiest?
Yep, this is the reality……..

 

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………