this girl's journey to become the slave her Master desires
Just because your kink is not my kink doesn’t mean it is a hard limit
The beauty of this relationship is that it necessitates me to push those limits, to try new things.
One of those things was water sports. As you can see from this photo, taken at our hotel during Eroticon weekend this is no longer a limit. It isn’t my own kink, it is His. But I think this photo demonstrates the joy of kink.
Photo courtesy of submiss34f
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Transitioning Sexual Health
Don’t fear the smear
How do you make sex toys accessible?
Having a IUD fitted
Xebec
Do You Still Know How?
Old Style Porn
From behind
These Feet
Trust
Orinoco Flow
Bastinado
Shivers
Spanking (A Vignette)
An Evening Out
Face To Face
In Lucy’s hands
More than Friends: Pushing Limits
The Importance of a Muse to This Writer
Pegging and Prostate
Dating: Hope vs Delusion
Going Deeper
Conviction
My secret identity: a sex-blogging superhero
For over 30 years I lived with and was married to the same man. He was my first proper boyfriend and the first man I slept with. We bought a house and had a child together. But as stated many times here, on this blog things were not as they seemed. I was unhappy with my life for a long time and he was unfaithful early in our marriage.
I made a decision many years ago that I would at some time find the strength to take control of my own life. But, I spent years being ashamed that I didn’t leave when I could. That I stayed with a man I didn’t love and definitely didn’t want to sleep with, though did.
Now I am free and in the kind of relationship I want and need. But I am under no illusion about the challenges the next few months will bring.
There is nothing like deciding to do something to want to act immediately. We have discussed my giving up work for months and longer. I have planned the timing with meticulous detail. Now, I am counting the days till I can resign. Trouble is, I have to give 3 months notice and I have to work out that notice. How then to keep focused and interested during that time? Heaven knows I am struggling, but with support I will see it through.
My not yet ex has had so much more control over me and my behaviour than he should have. I have made allowances and excuses for him for far too long. At last though, the end is in sight. This house, in which I still live, is ours and within the next few months will be theirs. From there I can move on and my life can continue in the way I want. At last I won’t have to respond to almost daily texts and I won’t have to allow him into my home. I have been married for 34 years to the neediest man on the planet. At last I can be financially free and next divorce him.
One relationship of 30+ years and now another of 4. I am happy to join Master in his home, but that home doesn’t belong to me and never will. I will have the proceeds of my house sale, but not the security I have had. And yet, I feel safe that I am doing the right thing and that we have something together that we both need. Love, partnership, affection, companionship and something else. Dominance and submission. A power exchange we both need. Practical steps will be taken to safeguard my long term financial future, but that isn’t everything.
This blog started as a statement of my journey and for now still is. But what about the future? Perhaps I am almost at my destination and so need to re think the focus. Or maybe the blog will be about a continuation of an unending journey. Chances are it will be the latter.
Last week I had planned out my Sinful Sunday based on the prompt week ‘wheel of fortune’ picks. My spins were toys and mirrors. At the same time, the current Kink of the Week is tails. This I decided was an opportunity not to be missed. Only miss it I did.
Regular visitors will know that planning and then following through are not my strongest points. The planning is often great, but getting round to doing things, less so.
The weekend was a busy round of visiting my mum and staying over, gardening and then a massive bedroom / clothes sort out. Thank goodness my weekend was 4 days or else I’d never have managed it all. The thing that had to go was the Sinful Sunday. However, tail photos were taken and a post submitted to KOTW so all was not lost.
As an aside the tail got left on the bed on Tuesday and when I got home and my ex had been round for a shower (don’t ask and anyway the shower will be all his soon). Where as in the past I might have freaked and he would have sent me weird texts, there has been no comment. Fact is I might be weird and kinky, but he is just weird.
This week’s Sinful Sunday picture was taken last weekend during the hot sunny weather. Time when I could wear a summer dress, no underwear and expose myself to Master. Photo and edit all down to him. His title on this photo was curly hair.
The Smut Marathon has moved onto round 5 and I am still in the competition. If anyone had told me at the beginning I would make it to round 4 and beyond, I would have been happy and proud. But on Sunday when the results were published I felt despondent. Not because I had made it through but because I saw that I came last for round 4.
This round we were asked to write a masturbation scene, involving one person and one toy. I took this literally and so didn’t ask for guidance. Consequently I edited out most of the references to another person. This made it a standard masturbation piece, that didn’t really include any context. But my original story of 500 words was much better. It included clear reference to the person who had turned her on all day and who she was due to meet later. See 8, A Hot Day for the final entry.
Worse, in my editing I failed to recognise that I had mixed my tenses, something I was critical of others for. The key message here, is to check editing and perhaps get another person to proof read.
Marie does an amazing job. Not only has she created this whole competition which she manages day to day. But she sends the prompts, updates and reminders to all of those involved and also analyses the results. The analysis is testament to her love of statistics. Comments can be left following voting, and are posted once this has closed and results are imminent. The voting system is complex but means that while the judges have 9 votes on a sliding scale everyone else can only vote for 3. For those of us in the competition, this feels unfair. We are allowed to vote for ourselves and if you do, then you can choose only two other entries.
We are all looking for different things when judging the writing of others and unless I have missed something until today I was unclear of any judging guidelines. But having read the blog of one of the judges I can see that he is following some clear criteria.
This includes whether the entry is original. This made me think about other comments from the judges. All of whom have commented have mentioned originality.
I am not a writer of erotica per say. That is not what my blog is about or for, though I have made a few fictional attempts. I am not even very good at writing about my own experiences creatively. Mainly because, once in sub space I struggle to remember and later to express the deeper meaning of what has happened.
I am a slave and one of the things I can’t do in my relationship is to orgasm without permission. I am also a 55 year old woman who doesn’t really need to orgasm every day. Put those 2 things together with the fact that we don’t live together then this provides the context. I don’t masturbate alone and am not all that good at expressing experiences.
So writing for this assignment meant I was in the main working from memory. My story wasn’t original, wasn’t well edited and contained poor grammar.
But I do take some comfort in Marie’s comments:
There is nothing wrong with this scene. It’s a masturbation scene that works. However, it might just be a bit too standard. Maybe the shower would have been a better setting, with her on her knees fucking a dildo?
Thoughts about how to be more original and start to think outside of my comfort zone. Whether I can do that remains to be seen, but I will give it my best shot.
It isn’t just judges who put a lot of effort in to this. We are spending time as contestants with our entries. I urge others to comment too. That includes the judges. I know we are all busy people that have plenty else to do but comments matter.
I urge Marie to publish criteria that the judges are working to, so we all know. If this is already out there, then please let us know. If judges are working to different criteria then I urge this to be corrected.
I urge those not involved and those who are out of the competition to vote and to comment. Your thoughts are necessary and welcome, even if they feel difficult to manage.
Finally, I urge those who are doing well to recognise the fact and to perhaps support the rest of us and help build confidence. After all, a competition is nothing without participants.
As the red velvet curtains opened, the stage slowly revolved. The slave’s limbs were firmly secured to a St Andrew’s Cross by fur lined leather cuffs. Her mouth filled with a ball gag secured behind her head. With wide eyes focused on her audience, her mind flashed back an hour.
Master had led her on a leash, naked into the small empty theatre. This place reminiscent of a venue they had visited on her birthday. A circular stage surrounded by 20-30 seats they had sat in the midst of the action. The actors had weaved in and out of the audience making it an intimate, immersive experience. This was how the idea had formed in Master’s mind.
Now though, the seats were filled with smartly dressed men and women, the Dominants. At their feet an equal number of naked submissive people. As the stage slowly rotated and slave realised she knew everyone. Some were mere acquaintances and others true special friends to them both.
Master stepped up to the applause of the group and approached his slave. Tears filled her eyes as he began to stroke her with the fingers of both hands. Starting at her shoulders, moving down her arms, onto her tummy, up to her breasts, circling the nipples. Finally he placed the fingers of his left hand between her legs and stroked the wet, throbbing pussy then leant down to suck her right nipple. She squirmed, bucking her hips towards his fingers. The stage stopped moving.
Standing up he leaned towards her left ear and whispered.
“Darling slave girl, your fantasies are about to be realised” Spit filled her mouth as she tried to speak, to ask what he meant. He grinned and took a vibrating wand in his hand and pushed it into her throbbing pussy and beckoned to a man in the audience. He in turn nodded to the girl at his feet and she stood up, walked purposefully to the stage, stepped up and as previously instructed dropped to her knees.
Master removed the wand and the girl crawled close to the slave. She leaned up and her tongue circled the clitoris of her subject. Slave’s juices began to gush forth, only to be lapped up.
Slave focused on her grinning Master and nodded. Whatever her resovations, Master knew just what she needed. On display, secured to the cross, her previously identified boundaries pushed to the limit. Safe in the knowledge that they shared a secret safe code she nodded again.
Master turned away and invited their friend Ross to take up a flogger and begin the show.
Earlier today, when I should have been working but was instead looking at my phone, a tweet popped up. Cara linked to a post from 2013 about how much of ourselves we reveal to our readers. She comments in the tweet that she has now met other bloggers and so of course many people have seen more than is every revealed online. This had me thinking about the things I write and the amount of myself and relationship I put online.
On the surface the answer is a lot. Over the last 6 years I have been open, honest, sometimes painfully so. This whole blog started as a place for me to track my own progress through a new affair. One that took me not only into infidelity but a whole different lifestyle. At times, it was the only place I could document my own feelings. This was especially true when my husband found out and I often felt frightened and alone. But actually I rarely went into personal detail, nor did I describe how my lover often left me to my own devices.
I am always careful about the things I write on my blog. I try not to criticise anyone, I don’t speak about work in any detail. Family details rarely appear, though exceptions have been when my dad was dying and frustrations with my mum. For a while I wrote about the polyamorous relationship but then the other woman started to read and so everything became sanitised. Even now, there is little real emotional detail.
I describe our sex life and my submission in some detail, often as an outpouring of post coital emotion. Milestones appear, as much for my own future memory as well as for Master to read. But detail is often sketchy, partly because I have a rubbish memory but also because I am not good at descriptive narrative. This is currently exposing itself in the Smut Marathon competition (more of which on my next blog post).
Perhaps the photos give away the most about me and us. Sometimes I even show my face. But this doesn’t mean that the reader sees or knows everything, how can they.
Everyone here and on Twitter know that MPB is Julie. That is my real name. I chose to do this not because I am uncreative, but because I don’t want to hide behind a massive pseudonym. I am not critical of anyone that uses one, it just isn’t me. But it does tend to lead to me being more open and more like my real self. What you see is what you get. An open book, I find emotions hard to hide. So on Sunday when the Smut Marathon results were published I got into conversations with other bloggers / writers. Participants began to express some of the things they felt are wrong with the process and I joined in. Then someone essentially told us to shut up and I felt ashamed that I had been part of the conversation.
On balance, twitter needs to be treated with the same caution as my blog. We are all people but some of us are prone to speak more openly than others. I’m not sure I should open myself up in that way to people. While I know some of the people on twitter and have met others none are people I can describe as friends. If I can’t say it here, then I really don’t want to say it on Twitter.
Even if you see my face, know my name is Julie that doesn’t mean you can and should see all of me. Some things must remain hidden.
It has been a very long time since this slave felt that she had provided service in the way her Master originally expected.
She isn’t so much disobedient or even unruly (no matter what Master would tell you). But it is about circumstance, timing and yes, laziness, on both sides. But this girl can feel the end of that time in her life coming to an end.
This weekend has been about getting ready for this slave’s future. There will be many more weekends like this until our move is complete. Time when we will be clearing out rubbish, putting things in bags and packing up the things that will be going to Master’s house.
Meanwhile, this weekend, there has been sex, raw passionate sex. And there has been submission time for this this girl naked and open for her Master to take. Clothed without underwear allowing him to have access at any time. A reawakening, a realisation of what might have previously been denied and hidden. His for the taking.
Many months ago, Master bought his girl a tail. She had coveted a bushy tail after seeing one at one of the sexy markets, London Alternative or Birmingham Bizarre Bizarre. One day when the slave arrived at his place, he presented to her. This would be a way for her to show her slutty side and to be his bitch. But, for one reason or another though, probably we were busy and there wasn’t time and it didn’t get used.
On Sunday Master firmly fucked his girl in the ass. The second time in recent weeks as our sex life has taken on new life. The plan was to use the tail for Sinful Sunday, but actually that might have been a little painful. And for one reason and another we didn’t post on Sinful Sunday this week.
On Monday though, the slave finally wore the tail. Still a little sore, inserting the butt plus was a bit of a challenge. But the effect was wonderful, and it won’t be long before that tail comes out again. Maybe she may even wear it out at an event. Till then, here is a photo taken by Master yesterday.
This week’s wicked Wednesday prompt is conviction. If my brain was working as maybe it ought to then I’d write some smutty and horny story about a convict. But instead it is a little weary from posting 31 times in April. The blogging A-Z kind of took it out of me. As usual I failed to plan and was often playing catch up. Sometimes there was a kink related theme, but often not. Interestingly I found the former easier to think about and deal with. A lesson for the future. Back to today though. Conviction in this case is about knowing I am actually on the right track with life and relationships.
Our sex life is revitalised. Master seems to be over his shoulder problems, but more than that we have worked out ways of having sex without putting pressure on it. It’s taken us ages to realise that sex (at least at the beginning of a session) works better on our sides. For me, it seems to help with some of the pain issues I was having on penetration and for him his shoulder pain. Once we get going, then a variety of positions is possible. It is adding to Master’s confidence again and so our sex life. We are definitely on the right track. Next, hopefully our kink and play time will also be revitalised. Part of that has been about winter, cold weather and lack of opportunity. Which leads me onto the next exciting development.
Within the next month I will have resigned my job. I have told my boss and started to prepare to recruit a successor. I need to give 3 months notice and plan to leave at the end of August. This decision has been made because I recognise the emotional strain I am going to be under over the coming months. The house move / swap is now on and I will be moving out and my ex and his partner moving in. My half of the house will be sold to her and I will move in with Master. At last I am in the process of instructing a solicitor to proceed with he sale.
I would be naive to believe this wouldn’t be stressful. I have lived here for 27 years. It was our family home and it will be a strain to leave. But my future awaits me and our future awaits us. We are definitely on the right track. Updates to follow.
I love to walk barefoot around my house and garden. When I get home, I like to take off my shoes and feel the carpet or floor under my feet. Unless it’s really cold I don’t mind the chill of the tiles in my kitchen or the cool laminate floor in the hall. Walking on the grass of my garden, even when damp to put out the washing. I love how the patio feels warm in summer and almost icy as the nights draw out again. Unlike some, I don’t walk out in the streets barefoot. But I do like to wear sandals or flip flops, something I can slip off. But come winter you will find me in socks indoors and wearing my boots when outside. I have limits you know.
I am not a lover of the feet of others. I am not turned on by feet and have never sucked the toes of another person. Though I have kissed and blown raspberries on the tiny feet of my baby and toddler son. The feet of grown people are often ugly. I am not all that keen on the sight of my own. I have toughed Master’s feet, but really only when we are taking a bath, or have just got out. No, the feet of others are not for me.
Master does like to touch my feet, to caress and to stroke. He has and does suck my toes and kiss them. He is not put off by the sight or smell of them, he seems to find them arousing. Much to my own surprise I like it.
There was a time when I hated having my feet touched. I was very ticklish and hated the idea that my boyfriend or later husband would tickle them. That is no longer the case because I really do love to sit with my feet on Master’s lap while he strokes my toes and instep. Having my toes sucked would not be my favourite thing in the world. But actually I do find it kind of erotic. When that is it is part of foreplay and leads to other parts of my body being touched and kissed.