Feeling safe

This week’s Food for Thought prompt is Safewords or Words that make you feel safe. I wrote recently about safewords so am not going there again with this post. So, what words make me feel safe? Early in our relationship I wrote about the words we use within our relationship and what they mean to me, including how they make me feel safe. 5 years on it seems like time for an update.

During sex Master often provides a running commentary of what he is doing, what he wants to do and how it is making him feel. He also asks me questions designed to reaffirm to him that I am his slut, his slave, his bitch. The words he uses during those moments are part of the rituals of our sex life. They also make me feel very safe indeed.

This girl

Since the beginning of our relationship He has referred to me as girl, or more often ‘this girl’. The use of the third person, focuses me onto him and his needs rather than mine. Over time, it has become something of a pet name. It demonstrates to me that Master’s mind set is focused on our M/s dynamic and reminds me of who and what I am. His slave.

Pleasing bitch

The reference to my being his pleasing bitch often follows. There are times when I wonder about the title of my blog. But those words remind me once again about what my purpose is. To provide pleasure to him. During sex he will often refer to me as his pleasure bitch, which is what I am.

Lord and Master

I admit to being something of an unruly slave (his words) and not always massively respectful. But there are times when the need and desire to call Master my Master or Lord are very strong. During sex, when I am restrained and blindfolded during play, for example. You see this is a two way road. It isn’t just about who and what I am to him but who and what he is to me.

Of course he is also my love and when he tells me that he loves me. That he has never loved anyone like he loves me then I know this isn’t just about sex and BDSM. This man is my partner for life. And that makes me feel very safe indeed. I know that I love him too, more than words can express.

F4Thought

Me and my camera

I got my first camera for Christmas when I was about 11. I loved going around taking everyone’s picture. It was just a shame that when I got my first film back from the printers the photos weren’t as good as I’d remembered.

Cameras with film

That was the whole problem, but also the exciting thing about cameras with film. You had to take 12, 24 or 36 photos before you knew how they turned out. So often you took 2 or 3 at a time to ‘make sure’. The film also had to be sent away, either by post or from a chemist shop. This made the thrill of getting that envelope of pictures all the more exciting (or disappointing).

During most of my teenage and early adult life I used my camera for photos of people. Generally family and friends – Christmas, birthdays, holidays. Months would go by between and so when they were developed the results could span the year. Once my son arrived however, I didn’t hold back.

I photographed his every move, smile, milestone. In that pre-social media world sharing baby photos had to be done physically. My nan used to steal so many of my photos of her great grand children that I resorted to getting two sets of prints developed.

Going digital

I bought my first digital camera while on holiday in the Canary Islands as they were cheaper there. Oh the joy of being able to see the results on a little screen. By then I wasn’t only taking photos of my family, but also views of the places we visited. Plus animals, insects and flowers.

The great thing about the digital camera was that you could remove the memory card, pop into Boots (or another high street outlet) and get the photos developed. To begin with I think it still took a few days, but eventually you could have them in an hour! What an absolute treat.

Too many prints

When I moved last year I landed up with all of our family photos from the past 30 years. My ex didn’t want any of them, mind you he subsequently ended up owning all of his parent’s photos. Though I believe he has thrown away many of them. I am more sentimental than that and can’t bear to do the same. But I know I need to go through the boxes sometime soon and sort and cull some.

Other than photos from my son’s wedding I haven’t had anything printed up for years. I have a photo on the fireplace and I gave my mum another two. The others I chose and paid for are stored in my computer files. My son and daughter in law presented me with a book of their photos for my birthday and so I have that too. Printing photos isn’t something people do very often any more.

A change of scenery
Me on the stairs in Seville showing my tits. I have pulley's my top up and bra down.
A typical exhibitionist photo from our collection!

Before I met Master there were a few photos of me naked or semi naked. Most taken by me with my camera or latterly phone. Now there are many. He loves to photograph me while we play. But also he likes me to pose for him naked, semi clothed or dressed in something fetishy. I have also taken to photographing him and he seems to like it too. He is something of an exhibitionist.

I think that having those photos taken has helped me accept my own body as beautiful as well as to change my view of the human body. I much prefer people with interesting bodies, like mine. By that I mean not models but those who are ordinary people willing to show that our non perfect bodies are not only normal but beautiful.

If you had told me 10 years ago that I would be showing photos of me naked on a blog online I would have laughed in your face. But of course that is what I do most weeks thanks to memes like Sinful Sunday and February Photofest. What’s more, I love it.

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

Breast Cancer – Being aware

I wasn’t going to write anything about Breast Cancer Awareness. But having read May’s wonderful post about her friend Shirley and watched Tabitha’s fabulous Vlog I feel compelled.

A year ago next week I had a right mastectomy for Lobular Breast Cancer. I had progressed through my adult life thinking that Breast Cancer was a disease that would happen to someone else. I took the pill for a limited time, I breast fed my son, I haven’t taken HRT. But of course the disease is less selective than that. If I were to believe everything I read, then my lifestyle – diet, weight and alcohol intake – are to blame. But since my cancer was hormone dependent, it is surely more complex than that.

Early detection

In the UK mammograms are offered every 3 years to women over 50 as well as annually to those who have a previous history. However, many breast cancers aren’t detectable, mine wasn’t and nor are many of those found by younger women. Nor, unfortunately is an ultrasound conclusive, so if you find a lump it will have to be biopsied. 

That means you need to spend time regularly feeling your own breasts, which I know isn’t a particular problem to many people. Certainly not to me. What’s more, your partner (if you have one) can help. Finding something unusual is only possible if you know what is normal. And if you discover something – lumps, bumps, a discharge from your nipple – then see your doctor.

Stupidly I was too scared, too blasé that it was nothing and too busy with work and moving to a new house to go to the doctor as soon as I should. I’ve been told it probably made no difference but seeing someone sooner might have resulted in a lumpectomy. Not mastectomy. So, my advice is to check your breasts regularly and use Tabitha’s vlog to help you.

Being Open

There are still people out there who don’t know I have had breast cancer. By that I mean some family and friends I haven’t seen in a while. Also those I’d rather didn’t know. But that number is small and shrinking.

At the time of my diagnosis I was anxious about having to give bad news to people. I found it upsetting to have to say the words: I have breast cancer. My natural instinct is to try to caveat bad news with positivity and it’s wrong to do that when you just don’t know. Also I didn’t want to be the subject of some people’s gossip, not that that didn’t happen. Friends and family of people I told later came up at social events to ask how I was and commiserate with me. But I guess that is human nature.

But what is very clear is that you can’t manage a cancer diagnosis alone. There are so many doctors appointments and decisions to be made. Although the medical and nursing staff provided their opinion of what I should do, ultimately it was my body. I consider myself the property of my Master, but these were decisions we had to take together. And ultimately I signed the consent form for my mastectomy, I underwent the numerous scans and X-rays and I had the thing done.

Helping others

This blog is the one place I have been able to express myself fully (other than with Master). Sometimes I have done so here as a rehearsal for discussions with others. Friends and fellow bloggers accompanied me on my journey, many of you who will probably read this post. But also others have contacted me through my blog and I hope this will continue to happen.

A breast cancer diagnosis is horrible. Indeed the uncertainty of finding a lump or being recalled from a mammogram is no fun either. So if my willingness to share my thoughts and feelings helps others then all this is worth it. And if I can link to others who are willing to promote breast cancer awareness to their fellow humans with breasts then we can break down the stigma that cancer still holds for many people.

Examine your breasts, seek help if anything is amiss and don’t keep your worries to yourself.

All of my breast cancer links can be found here.

Kissing vignettes

The touch of your lips as you brush mine sends a shiver through my body. My nerve endings tingle and you pull me into your arms. Our lips meet again, your lips part and slide your tongue onto mine. They dance a little together, we smile, and then our lips meet again, this time closed.

I’m standing at the window looking out onto the street where two of our neighbours are chatting. Suddenly you are behind me, your brush your lips over the back of my neck and gently kiss in the centre. Then you place your hands over my clothed breasts and will those outside to look up and in.

I lay naked on the bed and you crouch between my open legs. You lean down and nibble at my nipple while stroking my breast, then run your tongue across the areola. Finally you take it into your mouth. The feeling of you sucking on me sends erotic messages to my cunt, which tightens. You release the nipple and instead suck my tit, leaving a tiny bruise. Something that will remind me later of where you have been.

We lay together on the sofa watching TV. Something makes us laugh and I turn my head towards you. We kiss gently and then because we are both aroused, our mouths remain locked in their own embrace. Our tongues move together and the TV is forgotten. You break away and instruct me to suck your cock. I protest, though not strongly and while you undo your trousers I get down onto the floor. As I take your cock into my mouth I inhale your aroma, teasing the tip with my tongue and then taking you more deeply.

Afterwards you pull me into your arms and kiss my mouth. You tell me you love the taste of your cock on my lips. But then you also love the taste of my cunt and though I love it less, I kiss you passionately then too.

A previous kissing post can be found here

F4Thought

Fear

The Erotic Journal Challenge for October is Fear. I love that Brigit has gone for a month long theme and hope it is something she will continue. I love to join in with memes but struggle with my originality and often feel I am repeating myself. For this one though I may well post a couple (or more) essays on my thoughts about my fears. Brigit has helpfully posed a few questions and this is the first one:

What are your sexual fears / insecurities?

Body image

I guess most of my sexual fears relate to my body and insecurities about it. I currently weight the most I have pretty much ever. I want to lose weight and am trying. But so far this year I have failed spectacularly in doing so. This massively affects my self image and I struggle to see why I might be attractive to another person. I also know that I am less fit than I could be so not very agile.

Finally of course there is the small matter of only having one tit. This is most evident (unsurprisingly) when I am naked. A by product of having had cancer are the hormone inhibiting tablets I take, which have side effects of weight gain and joint pain. The latter for me is more of a stiffness, which makes getting up from the floor for example a challenge.

Performance

We have had our fair share of sexual performance issues over the years. I am always fearful that another is around the corner. I am not so young and agile, I am overweight and taking hormone inhibiters. What if my vaginal juices dry up, what if I can’t get into a particular position, what if I can’t orgasm? From time to time all of the above have happened, though each has been a passing phase. There was also a period of time when my body seemed to go into spasm when he pushed his cock into me, causing pain. This lasted a little longer, but also passed. However I am always worried the problem will return.

I worry that Master will no longer fancy me, that my body will not satisfy his needs. Or that I will begin to push him away as I did my husband. So far this has only happened if I am tired or emotional, but the fear is always there. What’s more, he says he fancies me more than ever, that he wants and needs me.

Getting over our fears

I haven’t arrived at the age of 57 without learning to be realistic. That my body, that both of our bodies are ageing. We have learned to pace ourselves and know when sex is best for us. He is also good at listening to my troubles and woes and mostly dealing with them effectively. Unsurprisingly he is usually right. There is really no reason to believe we will go off of each other. More likely we are going to grow old disgracefully together. But that doesn’t completely stop the fears from emerging nor does it prevent me from getting carried away with my negative thoughts.

But I will plough on with trying to improve my image of myself – try to lose some weight, try to get fitter. These will be especially important as I prepare for my reconstruction surgery. Then hopefully I can look in the mirror and like myself just that little bit more and feel like the sexually attractive woman he says I am. Then maybe those fears will go.

Finding my kink

Me wearing a fluffy tail

When I started exploring my kinky side I thought I didn’t know I was even interested in kink. But thinking back, the signs were there, even as far back as my early 20’s. At that time (I think I mentioned before), I wrote stories in longhand that often included threesomes and other kinky stuff. But somewhere amidst the monotony of a vanilla marriage and motherhood I forgot. So it wasn’t until the age of digital books and the internet that my kink side began to find the light of day again. By then I had the time to investigate and a husband who tended to fall asleep of an evening!

What is kink anyway?

According to Wikipedia kinkiness is defined as “the use of non conventional sexual practice“. the kink part being about a bend (or kink) rather than straight (or vanilla). The thing is of course, who decides what is straight and what is kinky? Who decides that kink is bad and straight is good? There are laws of indecency of course and attempts to make stuff that happens in private the business of others.

Earlier this year we expected the age verification legislation to come into effect here in the UK. I am all for preventing children accessing porn, but there was a feeling this was aimed at the kink community. Including those that photographed it and wrote about it. So far this hasn’t come into place, and anyway actually having sex, kinky or vanilla has nothing to do with porn. Though to be fair the internet is where many of us have found out about kink.

My early experiences of kink

I’d had very little actual sex let alone indulged in kink as I approached 50. My husband was interested, but mainly in watching others (on a screen). I often pretended to be shocked by some of the TV and videos he watched. But I was actually very interested indeed. I just couldn’t see me doing those things with him. Sadly I didn’t heed the warning signs that we obviously weren’t compatible. That came much later.

Exploring sex and kink at 50

As I mentioned above, I began reading sex and erotica when I got my first kindle. But in April 2012 I began chatting with a man online who was into Dominance and submission. This led me to read not only books but blogs and to join website forums. Very quickly I learned about BDSM and found myself intrigued. But also I found I wanted to try what I was reading about. The idea of me as a submissive woman excited me, as did the thought of restraint and kinky sex.

My initiation was rapid and not without risks. But from the first meeting with S I knew it was for me. I realised that I’d kept myself in check for many years.

Not long before meeting S, I had explored my own body and the ways I could make it aroused. I had found out as much as I could about masturbation and bought toys for myself. I discovered my orgasms were much more powerful with a clitoral vibrator. But while enjoyable it wasn’t entirely satisfying.

Before long though I was definitely having kinky sex, not to mention getting involved in other aspects of BDSM. While not everything that happened with S was good, he helped me realise what I wanted from life. This made meeting and becoming Master’s submissive then slave all the easier.

Our kinky life now

There is very little about our sex life that could be described as straight or vanilla. Save that we often have sex in the missionary position. But there are always overtones of M/s. We don’t play as often as we did at the beginning, but we have a room full of equipment and we do use it. We go to Munches and clubs and we have stayed in dungeons. Then there is the fact that we take photos of each other in a state of undress or practicing our art (see photo above). We live full time as a Master / slave couple and that in itself is far from straight.

For me this is the life I craved, yet didn’t know it. I thought there was something wrong with me because I didn’t want sex with my husband. But it turns out that we just weren’t right together. Now I have found the right man I am proud to say that I am kinky and proud of it.

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

Bubbles

I love a bubble bath, but I love bubbles created in a jacuzzi even more. This photo was taken earlier in the year when we were in Holland. I didn’t share it at the time because I wasn’t sure I was ready to show this much of me. But increasingly I am feeling proud of my body as it is. So, bubbles, boob and all, this is my Sinful Sunday for this week.

I am in the jacuzzi. Bubbles surround me. Just my top half is visible. My collar, right breast and the scar from my right mastectomy.
Sinful Sunday

Abortion: A woman’s right

I’m lucky, I’ve never been in a position to have to consider whether I want to be pregnant or not. I haven’t had to go through the turmoil of wondering who to tell or what people will think about me. Not about that anyway. As a nurse, I looked after a many people following the loss of a pregnancy, whether planned or not. But thankfully I never had to worry about legality either. While others went through that decision I always believed abortion would never be my choice. However that is also because I also believe that it is a woman’s right to choose.

Early knowledge

A girl in my class at school was pregnant when we took our ‘o’ levels. She had an abortion and went on to marry and have 3 children before she was 21. I don’t know what happened to her after that. I now know that a teenage pregnancy drastically reduces a person’s life chances. Making them less likely to have achieved a degree and more likely to live in poverty (more of that later).

But as a 16 year old who had never had sex with her boyfriend, I wasn’t concerned with my class mate. I was too busy continuing my school career and getting the qualifications to become a nurse.

Nursing

In 1981 I was a second year student nurse on her gynaecology placement. This took place at a small hospital for women in soho. This was a place where I learned some interesting things that it took a while for my 19 year old brain to digest. The first is that at the time a woman seeking a sterilisation needed the consent of her husband. Secondly, a woman in a relationship may still seek to have a termination of pregnancy even if the foetus is health. Thirdly that you could object to being in theatre when a pregnancy is terminated but as a nurse you have a duty to care for the woman before and after the event. This proved to be a useful guide to my future career. You may not always agree with people’s life choices, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t receive care, support and a human touch. We are not there to judge people, but to support them through the choices they have made.

My own pregnancy

This was planned and wanted. It only happened once and I remain a bit sad about that. But as I said at the top of this piece, I do consider myself lucky never to have needed to worry about being pregnant.

In hindsight I wish I’d been a little less controlled and a bit more free spirited. But my husband was less risk averse than me and so an unplanned pregnancy was unlikely.

Until I was menopausal that is. In my 50th year I embarked on a relationship with S and we rarely had protected sex. I have often wondered what I would have done had I become pregnant. By then of course, we had the morning after pill and medical terminations taking place at clinics rather than acute hospitals. Still it didn’t happen, so I will never know.

Later career experiences

Around 10 years ago my job included leading on teenage pregnancy. As the agency responsible for improving the health of the local population and buying the services to do it we were tasked with reducing rates. This meant I spent time with midwives, social workers, policy makers and young people themselves. I learned about the complex reasons for people accessing abortion services or not. Those conversations took me right back to the beginning and my class mate getting pregnant at 16.

Much money has been poured into addressing the teenage pregnancy rates in England. Numbers have reduced drastically, though this hasn’t necessarily dealt with the social disadvantage those young people experience. We have had programmes such as Family Nurse Partnership that have helped. But low pregnancy numbers and austerity cuts have decimated these services in some areas.

Conception rates here are now masked because it is much easier to prevent pregnancy, deal with the potential of one easily or to get an abortion. This isn’t without it’s problems, but at least it doesn’t deny access.

A woman’s right

In far too many places in the world women are unable to access the means to end pregnancy. If they do not wish to carry on, even if they have been raped or there is something wrong with the baby.

Others apparently can decide that an unviable foetus should be preserved and that even if a woman miscarries she is some way to blame.

This is why I am supporting the Smutathon today and have donated to the charity: National Network of Abortion Funds I believe it is the right of anyone who becomes pregnant and wishes to end that pregnancy for whatever reason to be able to do so.

I urge you to click on the link below, to see who writing today and if you can to donate. What’s more you can also access some actual smut there. Wonderfully crafted smutty writings by highly talented sex writers and bloggers. And what better reward for your efforts could there be?

The Smutathon badge showing a woman in fishnets bending over a chair with tagline Erotic writing for a cause

Electric

He used the violet wand on me from the first time we played. I held a respect for all things electric that made it difficult for me to quite trust the wand at first. My dad was an electrician and the idea of someone torturing me with an electric current scared me a little. Even now, I find it somewhat scary.

But there is no doubting that the violet wand is an amazing bit of kit. It works by turning the electrical current into a low watt, high frequency charge like static electricity. And that is exactly what it feels like when the wand attachments touch my skin. It’s just that it’s a continuous flow of static rather than a short burst.

Soon after we met we attended a workshop at Birmingham Bizarre Bazaar which helped me understand how it all worked. It also helped seeing other subs having the wand used on them. Even so, I still feel a bit anxious when Master is using the wand.

Having said that, the tingling feeling as he brushes the wand attachment over my bare skin is quite wonderful. I find it more relaxing if I am blindfolded and then I start to enjoy the feelings. Since I tend to try to jerk my limbs out of the way, then restraint is also a good idea.

He runs a comb attached to the wand through my hair, brushes down my body, paying attention to my nipple piercing. That often does give me a little jolt. Then onwards down my torso, arms and legs. Combined with other stimulus such as from a vibrator, my nerve endings come alive and somehow I become aroused.

When Master uses the violet wand on me, it is just one of a series of sensations he creates. A small element of the process of pain and pleasure.

This is what I wrote in February 2014 after one of my first experiences:

During that session there was cock worship, there was spanking with various implements, and there was ‘the zipper’ (lots of pegs on my pussy this time which are at an opportune moment quickly pulled off all at once). There was also the violet wand which I both love and hate as the electrical stimulations are painful but in a very erotic way. There were nipple clamps, there was the bit in my mouth and as always there was the hitachi. And there was sex too, particularly the anal sex which always has an effect on my emotional state. But also there was lots of touching – Him touching my body and me his.

Feb 2014

Sadly we haven’t played with the violet wand much in recent times. I know that by writing this, something is highly likely to happen! After all, Master reads all of my blog posts!