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.

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.

2 Responses to slave stuff

  1. Slut says:

    This is a beautiful post that brought goosebumps to the skin of THIS slave. You are such an inspiration.

  2. Julie says:

    Thank you so much. This something that has been in the thoughts of this slave for a while. It has been too easy to drift along.

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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: M

There are times when I feel that our relationship together is just the same as everyone else’s. We have our ups and downs, we bicker and argue. But there are times when we need to make up, make love have a kind of loving sex and apologise for things that were said. We are good friends, we laugh and we play. We travel to lots of interesting places and spend as much time as we can together.

This is a different relationship to the one I had before. The power dynamic for one thing. The control he exerts over me only become apparent when there is a disagreement of if I need to defer to him. During our weekdays apart it is difficult to recognise his influence as I go about my working day. His influence over my actions is implicit rather than explicit, unnoticeable to others. But at the weekends and when we are on holiday together the dynamic changes and I find myself deferring to his decision-making more and more.

Our relationship is not one where he micromanages me. I don’t ask to spend money, since it is mine to spend. But I do ask what he thinks we should do, where we should go, what we should eat. I rarely take a decision these days without some level of consultation.

Sometimes my position as slave means that I do something I would rather not. This morning I was a little hung over; a little too much local wine passed my lips last night. While I showered and dressed he was reading my blog and getting aroused by my words and the picture. So he demanded I kneel before him, suck him off and provide relief. In my past life, I would have turned him down, but since I am the slave I now on I sank down to my knees. I knelt on the cushion he so helpfully provided and took my prize.

I am the slave, he is the Master.

Recollections of the past

A couple of weeks ago I installed a widget that allows random posts from your blog to be reposted to Twitter or Facebook. I had noticed it on a few people’s twitter feed and since I have almost 5 years worth of posts I decided to try it too. Every 12 hours or so a new tweet, with a link appears on my twitter feed. Yesterday this one cropped up. It was liked and retweeted by eye  and then commented on by Rebecca. How strange then that this week’s Wicked Wednesday is about recollections.

That the post entitled ‘Relationships’ was written in March 2013. At the time I was going though a lot of trauma with my ex. He had recently found out about my relationship with S and was pretty keen to point our my shortcomings at every opportunity. When, that is he wasn’t telling me how much he loved me and that he didn’t want to lose me. When I brought up his own infidelity he told me that something that happened 20 years ago didn’t count. The trouble is that the hurt from all that time ago, had never left me. Writing in a bit of detail about being cheated on as a young wife and mother helped put things into perspective.

Infidelity is not something to be taken lightly. We made a promise to each other in front of family and friends. A promise that we would love, honour and cherish each other. I never imagined that he would break that promise quite so quickly. Especially as in the aftermath he pretty much told me I was frigid and boring in bed. More recent events have proved that not to be the case. Embarking on my own journey took some guts, and all of the time I knew I was being unfaithful. I knew that if he every found out, then he would be devastated and so he was.

But the interesting thing about the recollections associated with this post is this. In March 2013, while he continued to make me feel guilty and to try to get me to dump S, my ex was already seeing another woman. They had met at Christmas and were in the early stages of their current relationship. The wronged man was already in another’s arms. For months after that he pretended that he was spending much of his time staying with a male friend. I believed him because it was easy to do so and because I was preoccupied. The man was a liar hypocrite in the early 90’s when I found out about that first affair and still is today.

For the most part I try to look forwards, looking back doesn’t always help. Sometimes recollections of the past can help. My words from 2013 certainly have done that today.


SCC Writing #228

Much of the literature I had read before embarking on a D/s relationship was fictional. While very hot, this kind of writing tends to be more about play and kinky sex than real life. It wasn’t really until I was starting my D/s journey with S and subsequently with Master that I read more widely.

What I gleaned from those ‘manuals’ of submission and slavery is that all relationships are different. That concepts of ownership, service, obedience and worship can be interpreted along a continuum. Just how strictly these apply depends upon the wishes and needs of the individuals. I think that Master and I like the idea of a relationship that interprets my slavery further towards the strict Master and compliant slave. But life needs to be more low maintenance than that for us both.

What is more, no relationship can sustain those first flushes of new excitement. Of constant arousal, discovering each other’s bodies, of pushing and testing limits. M/s for us right now is much more low key, perhaps an undercurrent to our lives rather than something that is overtly visible to others.

Having said all of that, we have let things slip a bit. There are rules, and expectations. Some are always followed and others really are not. We have discussed recently that we need to rediscover exactly what it is we both need from the M/s element of our relationship.

It is the very fact that we can and do communicate with each other about our relationship in its broadest sense as well as these specific elements, that feels different. We can and do discuss everything – we look back and analyse events and feelings and we make plans for the future. Those future plans involve mundane everyday things like me preparing my house for sale and him cleaning space for me to move in. They also include us thinking about ways in which we can better take account of His need to dominate me and mine to submit to Him. We often surprise each other. This might be by Him tell me He is about to pee on me in the shower, or perhaps I strip and kneel before Him, unprompted.

Life is no more like the fictional accounts of erotica that I often read than it is a manual of slavery. I would prefer to think that we are writing our own story as we journey though our life together.

Blogging update – moving on from the past (first ever photo post?)

Blogging update – moving on from the past

Last Sunday I finally got around to moving my blog. Just over two years ago, when it looked as if Blogger was going to ban sex related sites, I bought my own domain. I searched for and read about hosting, WordPress etc and planned to move. I worked out how to move posts across and even successfully managed to do so. Then following a public outcry Google had second thoughts. I couldn’t work out how to make my blogger blog redirect to my self hosted one, so I just gave up. Periodically I returned to look, once more I moved posts across, but still I couldn’t work out how to redirect.

A few weeks ago I received an email to tell me that my domain name was up for renewal. Should I let it go or try again? Always up for a challenge, I decided to give it one more go. So last weekend I spend time that could have been put to better use, working on the move. After much trial and error I got everything across, including photos and links. Then I managed the redirect. Somehow I then managed to re-import the posts and ended up having to manually trawl through and delete about 750 posts.

But after linking my Sinful Sunday post for last week, I heard from Molly that she had spotted a security problem. Somehow I had set up the blog with a url ending in /blog and if you typed .com  you landed at my C panel. Thankfully @DomSigns was able to help out with the technical details so by Friday I was up and running. I am really grateful for Molly and Michael’s help, without which i don’t think I would have been able to get this far.

Then, just as I got to the point where I might be able to concentrate on new material I managed to mess things up again. Having installed a plug in to delete duplicates I somehow managed to delete all the tags and categories in the entire blog. The past couple of days have been spent categorising everything, starting with this past week backwards and then today from the beginning.

Reading about a long left behind relationship has left me with mixed thoughts. Firstly, I had forgotten just how much I had written in those early days. As I explored new experiences I wrote copiously. I embraced the rules he laid down enthusiastically, if perhaps blindly. I enjoyed the times we had, but now recognise he was probably using me. His marriage had ended and he saw me as an opportunity to explore his kinky side.

5 years on, I am faced with a dilemma. I have no desire to remove that part of my life from this blog, but I wonder if those posts need to be characterised in the way they were? As I reviewed them I know labelled them differently. But should I be more radical and create an “archive” category and then move on?

The past is important, after all it made me the person I am today but I need to move forwards. I am in another relationship, one that everyone knows about. I am a slave and Master is my owner. We know pretty much everything  about each other, both positive and negative. I recognise the things that are important, I need to move on. Moving my blog is the right thing for me. I will have greater freedom about what and how I write. But it will also allow me to let go of the past. There is great value in that.

The image below was the first I posted of me on my blog in 2012. He loved me to dress up in that kind of way and I has fun doing so. But that was then and I think I prefer the way Master likes me to dress for him now. The maid will be consigned to the archives after today along with that part of my blog.


The Collar

The collar is the symbol of who I am and to Master’s ownership of me. In the 18 months or so since He placed it around my neck, I have rarely removed it. At the beginning I used to do so to fly, since I was nervous of the whole airport security thing. But I have discovered that titanium does not set off airport security and if that is the case then the airport people are not bothered. Once or twice I have received a knowing smile but in the main nothing. At work very few people ever mentioned it, other than to admire it. My hairdresser loves it and would like one for herself. If people do mention it then they call it a necklace or tort.

I have come to realise that often people don’t really notice things about people, what they wear, how healthy they look, in the main they are wrapped up in themselves. It’s interesting that many people on fetlife worry about what people will think and say about them wearing this kind of symbol. Perhaps if Master had insisted I wear a dog collar 24/7 I might not feel the same, but since he hasn’t  and I love what he gave me I am proud to wear it.


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………
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