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?

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.

The mark

We have spoken so many times about me getting a tattoo. I know that he loves a woman with tattoos marking her body. In theory I love the idea too and want what he wants. But all along I have had a few worries. First is the fact that his former slave had a number of tattoos. Indeed she had his initials tattooed onto her leg at the very time they were breaking up. I caught both sides of that argument, but suffice to say it didn’t end well. Personally, no matter the dynamic of the relationship you must want this kind of thing for yourself as well as them. I think that another persons initials indelibly inked upon your body take some consideration. 

For me, well that is not the worry. I think I want symbols rather than initials on my skin. I have Master’s collar and cuff. I have the knowledge that I am owned. I don’t need his initials.

What then? I have been thinking of a butterfly.

A butterfly signifies the beauty of the natural world around us. It shows that as a slave while I want to show off and be proud that he is my Master I also want to settle down beside or on top of him. It demonstrates that while I could easily fly away I choose to stay close, safely by his side.

But also it shows that I am vulnerable and need protection. It seems that I am confident, but in actual fact I am not. I am anxious about the future and need his reassurance.

I am confident that we will get that tattoo. Another sign of his Mastership over me. But also of my freedom to express myself. Where though should that tattoo be?

I am thinking a breast, or buttock or perhaps somewhere else…………

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

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.

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.

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.

Blogging A-Z Challenge: M

M is for Master / slave relationship

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.