Blogging A-Z Challenge: G

G is for Girl

This girl’s given name is girl. Just 2 weeks after Master and I met, I wrote this post. At that time I was sceptical that referring to myself in the third person was something I could get used to. Let alone that doing so would have an influence on my submission. But I was a novice back then, not that I knew it since I thought I knew everything about D/s. The learning curve was steep but I was an eager student.

In those early days, to get used to referring to myself as ‘this girl’ I began to write my posts in the third person. It is only recently that I have reverted, though in many ways prefer writing as this girl. When we have sex, or when we are playing I don’t just refer to myself as this girl, I am she. It is my name, my identity, my slave persona. The rest of the time it is an undercurrent to my life. Master rarely uses my real name, and has admitted that sometimes he has to think about what it is. I usually call him Master, since that is who he is to me. Unless I am speaking to someone else about him, and even then I have sometimes let slip.

Illeism – the act of referring to oneself in the third person

Much more common in literature than in real life, illeism is I think an interesting concept. It distances you from your own individual self and places you in  secondary place to the other. In a power exchange relationship, being required to refer to myself in that way makes me consider each sentence I utter. It makes me think about my place as his slave, my role and function.

Of course, I don’t go around speaking in the third person all the time, for example at work or with family. That would be considered a bit on the weird side. Nor do I do so all of the time Master and I are together. But there are times when I would never refer to myself as I with him. We both know when they are and that is a rule I tend not to break.

Styled by Master

Photo from Loveherhair

In the 3 years since she had been seeing Mark she was aware that their relationship may not have been as it seemed. At first she had felt in control, she paid him to cut and style her hair, meet her requirements. This was to incrementally shorten her hair while maintaining a ‘feminine’ style (her words). As she told him, an older woman looks and feels better that way. He agreed with her that this was the best way to achieve that end result. Unless, as he joked, you were prepared for the shears on day one.

Their meetings which took place every 6 weeks were a little more frequent than she would have preferred. But since his schedule was even more busy than hers she booked ahead and stuck to the appointments.   Master seemed happy with her progress, she knew his preference was a closely cropped, almost bald style. But she knew what He wanted from her. She wanted to please him but needed to get there in easy stages. Master in turn preferred a slave who complied at her own volition.

Mark wasn’t the kind of stylist that she would have chosen. She adored him as a person, for his outgoing nature and personality but worried about his approach. He loved to flirt with her and at the same time to offer fantastic celebrity gossip. But all of the time he pushed her towards a shorter hair cut. It was almost as if Master was giving him instructions.

At the same time this seemed unlikely, what top end stylist would push for an ever shorter cut so that eventually his skills would become redundant?

For each appointment she negotiated an outcome  which took her closer to Master’s goal and each time Mark pushed her further. He would accidentally cut it shorter at the back, at the sides or on top. Then one day he took clippers to the left side of her head without discussion.

Exclaiming how wonderful it looked he asked what he should do next. Running her fingers over what remained of her hair, she had to agree it looked and felt great. She considered whether to even things out of to keep her hair long on the other side. She knew that was what many people did; short on one side while long on the other.

Symmetry was something she loved, taking a deep breath she instructed Mark to shave the right side. The hair was then short on both sides, but still held the layers she treasured on top.

Clarity of her situation suddenly surfaced, and she looked Mark in the eye, seeing his image reflected in the mirror. He cupped his hands around her head and stroked the stubble on each side of her head.

“Master asked you to do this” she stated with sudden clarity.

Observing her in the mirror, he nodded briefly.

“Then you should complete the task”  she said. His nod was much more pronounced. He picked up his scissors and began to cut. Within minutes he had removed the remaining hair to little more than stubble.

At the cash desk she paid for today’s cut and booked her next appointment for 6 weeks time. “I think next time will be a number 2, all over” she told him clearly.

“Maybe even a number 1?” he asked.

“Maybe, if that is what Master wishes” she agreed.

As she pulled her coat on and walked out into the street she stroked her head, on one hand missing the hair that had gone, but also loving the feel of the stubble. They both knew that the next visit in 6 weeks time would be the start of a new chapter. One of maintenance but also one where both could fulfil their Master’s requirements.

In this element of their slavery at least.

SCC Writing #228 – This life

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.

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.

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.

From segreti

 

The kink returns

There is probably nothing like blogging to say that the kink is absent from a relationship to make it return. Well I guess that’s is no accident since Master reads this blog. Not only does He read, but He likes to discuss posts and make suggestions.

What is more, even as I wrote my last post, I knew that He was thinking about how to reinvigorate that part of our life.
On Friday, as has been usual for most of the past couple of months (when we had no plans to go out) He came over to me and I cooked us some tapas from a really good book I have. We drank wine (if the truth be known, a little too much wine) and listened to some music which I had downloaded following our Lieder festival trip.
Time went by. We ate and drank wine. We chatted and drank wine. We listened to music and drank more wine. In the cold light of day the following morning I was to regret that quite so much wine passed our lips; painting walls and skirting board is not fun with a hang over!
At some point Master suggested I strip off. I did so and He wondered if I had anything I might like to wear instead of clothing. Of course I did since Master likes to buy me leather gear which covers very little of my body. So I went upstairs and found a little number that framed my breasts. Well it would have framed them if I hadn’t lost quite so much weight, but I am sure we can fix that.
As I say, lots of wine had passed my lips but what I can say is that I knelt for Him. What is more I worshipped Master’s cock. I presented myself and I was lucky enough to be given A LOT of orgasms.
I was drunk and so was He. But not so drunk that I didn’t know what I was doing, why and how.
We talked a lot, then and subsequently about what we need to do to get the Master / slave part of things back on track (not that we have actually lost the substance of our relationship). I know that over the coming weeks we will be making sure we do just that.
Thinking about the coming month and about my lack of posts over recent weeks though. I am planning to try to blog much, much more over November. Whether it is about our M/s relationship, our kink or just life in general.
Time to get this blog back on the road.

The shorter the better

So Kink of the Week for 1-15 September is Hair. Having covered pubic hair already, the focus this time is the hair on your head.

Master has a particular fetish for very short hair. In his ideal world his slave would have her head shaved. For him, there is something very erotic about a woman whose head is shaved. I haven’t asked him, but suspect he prefers that the hair has visibly been cropped closely and that you can run your hands over it and feel the stubble rather than a head that is truly bald. His tumblr feed is full of photos of women that emulate his ideal (he has other kinks that he displays too unsurprisingly).
Master is not one to push a slave to comply with his wishes, at least not overtly. He would prefer that she does so to please him and because she wants it too. So the move towards short hair has been a gradual process.
When we met my hair was shoulder length. It had taken me a while to grow my hair to a length that I liked and I felt pretty happy with the style. As far as I was concerned I dressed and had my hair cut in a way that I wanted, to please myself, no one else. When we met, his then slave told me of his preference for shorter hair. She told me that when she arrived to live with him, he would force her to have her head shaved. This was something she said she would struggle with. While I believe he may have said such a thing to her, I don’t actually believe he would do anything like that without the other person (even his slave) fully agreeing and wanting that to be the case. Certainly he hasn’t pressured me to cut my hair. But the things she told me stick in my mind and maybe stop me from going the whole hog.
I have though, over the past 2 1/2 years gradually cut my hair shorter.
I have discovered that a woman of my age looks better with shorter hair. That I like the way I look with short hair. It looks better when cut around my ears than trying the half way thing. I have discovered that for a woman going through the menopause short hair really helps you cool down. I think it helps me and others see the bone structure of my face.
What is more, I have been complimented on my hair in a way that I don’t think I have been for many years by family, friends, colleagues and by almost complete strangers.
I don’t have my head shaved and am not sure I ever will. Maybe I might get the area around my ears shaved as I think it looks cool and pretty sexy. I know what Master likes, but don’t think he will push me to do something I don’t want.
But sometimes you need another persons view, another’s ideal to help push those boundaries. without Master I may never have cut my hair to the length it is now and may never have known just how good it would look.
Short is good. For him, the shorter the better and maybe I am edging closer to his ideal.

Friends and much more

Last year HornyGeekGirl started a meme, I stumbled upon it and some where along the line got confused and thought it was new. The prompt is above and I have written the post so its getting posted, better late than never!. I have to say that I love the quote (going to have to find out more about the author) and also the banner on which it sits – beautiful scene of wild flowers……

……………………………….
It wasn’t the first time I had arranged to meet a man previously only known to me on the internet. But this was different:
  • We hadn’t even spoken on the phone.
  • I didn’t know his first name until I asked him for it the night before.
  • He lived more locally than the previous encounter and therefore I must have known that there were more possibilities open to me.
  • I knew he was involved with someone else, though had little idea at the time of what their relationship was about.
  • I thought I knew about BDSM, about D/s. It turned out that I was about to find out much much more.

 

I was nervous, I expect he was too though we haven’t discussed that. What was clear to us both was there was something of a sexual spark between us which emerged during the time it took for us to consume one drink. I expect I spoke quickly and said too much, he was a good listener. As we finished our drinks, he suggested a walk.
It was cool and damp out, but not unpleasant and fresh air seemed a good idea. He took my hand and I felt the buzz of electricity between us. Soon after we stood in a churchyard and kissed for the first time, he touched me outside of my clothes. I throbbed for him. My life had inextricably changed in those few moments even if I didn’t know it yet.
Looking back on the past 2 years and 7 months I can see that I have changed as a person, that I am happier, more self fulfilled, more confident in myself as a woman and as a sexual being. I am his slut, his bitch and his slave. But also I am his friend and he is mine. We have a relationship based on openness and trust. The dynamic requires it but so does the relationship itself. I love this man, my best friend, my lover, My Master.

KOTW – Tasks

I need to get back to blogging ways, indeed if I was tasked to do so then maybe I would be better at getting my brain into gear. Even better if Master were to give me a list of topics he would like me to write about.But seriously, this month’s kink of the week is about Tasks. I have a set of rules that I agreed to when I became Master’s slave, and one or two of them are kind of task orientated. Probably the main one would be that I should wear my butt plug twice a week when we are apart. I am rubbish at keeping to this rule, mainly because I forget. We often chat on Skype late in the evening and after I come off of the call I get ready for bed and am asleep before I know it.

The other rule that has slightly fallen by the wayside is the issue of underwear. I often don’t wear panties but usually these days like to wear a bra. For all I am 54, my tits are still quite firm, but still I do prefer it. Generally he doesn’t push the issue.

Sometimes he will give me tasks to do, but these are on an ad hoc basis, as the mood takes him (as is his prerogative). I am not someone who really needs a massive amount of structure and to be frank I am a calmer, happier human being since I have been with him.

He is someone who likes his slave to be low maintenance and so, while he likes to give me the odd thing to do, he is not really into making sure I do it. We have discussed recently that our dynamic has fallen into something of a routine and that we don’t always make the effort to think about things such as this.

Perhaps this prompt may lead to further discussions on the topic since he reads what I write here and we often follow that up with a discussion.

Tasks are a good thing, but they take effort on both sides. I am willing to give it another go if he is!

 

Back to basics

We have been enjoying a wonderful summer together. A trip to France in May was followed by our holiday in Sicily, then there was a weekend away to visit my brother and then last weekend apart. Me with my mum in France, Master with his daughter in Amsterdam. In between there have been nights out, the theatre, the cinema, meals, trips to the pub…..

Often we have had little time for sex, a need to get up early, or getting home late and falling into bed. Plus of course the little matter of needing to prepare both our houses for when I join him in his. We get on really well together, we have no problem in living a vanilla existence. We can sit together reading, discussing current affairs, we don’t really need to argue and so don’t. We are maybe more tolerant of each other because we respect each others point of view even if we don’t agree with it. We love each other and we fancy each other. Of course, the relationship is not quite like it was at the very beginning. But it could be.
This weekend we got back to the core of what we are about as a couple. Master and slave. We reconnected in a way that we really haven’t given time for in quite a while. Plus we still managed to get out, travel to London to see a play, eat dinner and have a lovely walk back to the train station.
But while we were alone together here, things were different.
He decided on  Friday night and again last night when we got back that I needed to be naked. He had me kneel before him and suck his cock. He had me wear one of the leather harnesses (It was a bit on the loose side, so the diet and exercise is paying off) and he was clear about how I should address myself and him. I was ‘this girl’ once again and he was Master and also Lord; he really loves me calling him Lord, but I do stumble over it. Not because I mind calling him Lord, but too many films and books mean I am confused as to whether I should call him my Lord or just Lord. It sounds weird in a way that Master doesn’t (but I digress).
We have had amazing sex. Kinky, horny sex. I have been permitted numerous orgasms, many more than the tally currently written in black ink on my tummy. I have had a prize from him, one that I received while he was deep inside me this morning. I have also been required to pee on him, though this weekend not the other way around.
We have talked about the fact I have a contract and rules that I don’t follow and discussed how we can get that back on course. I know what I need to do, the rules are few and they are simple. But this is a two way process and he has promised me that he will also make sure we keep making time for the kinky side of our life. The pain and the pleasure, the Dominance and the submission. Master and slave.
This weekend has been relaxing and it has been busy. We got back to basics and it is clear that we do have time, we can have it all.