This has been a wonderful weekend, spent in central London. We are staying in our favourite London hotel. We have walked among the tourists and in the quiet back streets. Enjoyed lovely food and wine. Sat at the hotel bar eating cheese while someone argued over their bar bill. We attended the viewing of a silent film about the first world war in a museum.
Today was a crisp and sunny day and the view from our room shows that. We are only on the third floor but I doubt anyone one was looking up while this photo was taken. Well who knows?
He likes to exercise control over me and all aspects of his and our life. This really is who he is. While he will do things at my suggestion, I know he likes to come up with ideas first. Through the control he has over me, I know he feels power. He tells me that when he controls me he feels his domination and my submission. Sometimes, in the right situation this power arouses him sexually and in turn it does me too.
It’s funny because in the past I hated to be out of control. To have others tell me what I should and shouldn’t do. Indeed in a work situation I can still get a little tetchy if I think someone is trying to control me. But over the last (almost) 5 years I have willingly given control to him. I have consented to be his slave and to allow him to make decisions on my behalf.
There are 13 other posts on this blog labelled in the category of control. Most were written in the first year or two of our relationship. At a time when I was learning about my needs and of course his. Then I thought about control a lot. Recognising for the first time that there was no need to micromanage myself and everyone else around me. The key thing I recognise as I write this post today, is how far along this journey I have travelled.
So often now, I don’t even worry about decision making. I just expect him to take the lead. He books concerts and theatre trips and puts them in the diary. He makes suggestions about places we might go and before I know what has happened we are on our way. Hotels are booked, sightseeing organised and quite often I just turn up, guide book in hand. But the strange thing is, it doesn’t feel like he is doing anything different or odd. There is no malice involved, just a desire to be the one that decides things. And I am pretty happy to just let that happen.
In bed he willingly takes the lead. It isn’t that I can’t or don’t want to, but he just does it. Telling me to get on my knees can be so powerful, for us both. When he comes up behind me as I am standing at the window or in the kitchen and lays his hands on my shoulders or hips. I can feel the control he has over me, a physical and emotional thing. Something I can almost see and which I always know is there.
I have to admit that I have been resistant to making changes to my lifestyle. I know full well that I am over weight, that I often make poor food choices, over eat and drink too much alcohol. But over the past few years I have been enjoying myself and it didn’t seem to be doing me any harm. My view has changed. While the things I put in my mouth and the fact I am over weight may not have caused my cancer they certainly haven’t prevented it.
Soon after my surgery May More, who has a nutrition background suggested some supplements that might help with healing. I looked up the ones she suggested and have been taking two of them for a couple of weeks now. I don’t know if they are helping or not, but I am pretty sure they are doing no harm. So, I’ll continue for now. I may even add others in.
Over the past couple of weeks I have been reading a book called the Rainbow Diet. This was suggested by a good friend whose brother is also using it. Written by a biochemist whose daughter has recovered from brain cancer it makes interesting reading. It looks at the scientific evidence for how the food we eat and the way we cook it contributes to cancer development. It doesn’t advocate diet changes instead of traditional cancer treatments. But rather using them to support treatment, mitigate side effects and eventually to prevent recurrence.
As a health professional myself, I have always been sceptical of the use of diet and supplements as a means of treating illness. Nor have I ever considered they may have preventative qualities. However, it is a fact that my cancer was oestrogen dependent and that there are some foods that support the production of that hormone. The book suggests that a diet high in fat, protein and carbohydrates encourages oestrogen production. It also says that if you are over weight then even more is produced. This seems a good place to start. So, I have begun to reduce my protein and calorie intake, and increase my fruit and vegetable consumption. We are also going to reduce our consumption of processed food (not that we are big consumers). And I am trying to cut out sugar and aspartame.
The rainbow diet is about eating food of all colours and making as much of that food plant based as possible. Eating whole grains rather than processed and cutting down on animal fats. I am not planning to stop eating meat or bread or pasta. But I am going to be thinking much more about the quality of the food that is going in my mouth.
I plan to increase the amount of exercise I take. But at the moment this will mainly be walking. Hopefully in the new year I can begin swimming. Maybe I might even do some other exercise, though I am not a lover of classes.
The conventional treatments I will undergo in the coming months are vital to make sure I can remain clear of cancer. But I believe that I can help things along by making changes to my lifestyle.
A month after surgery and I feel ready to give the merest glimpse of my body.
I was never symmetrical, indeed the right side was larger than the left. Now, though things are different. I am getting used to the look and feel of my new self and might even grow to like it a little.
What I would like though is to slim down that area below my chest. Diet and fitness is my new focus. A blog post about this will follow.
The first time I think I was actually aware that people had perceptibly different smells was when I first visited the home of my future husband. I didn’t know he was that as I was 15 and he was my new boyfriend. I observed that their house smelt different from ours and realised that other peoples did too. It wasn’t that the people themselves smelt unpleasant, there was just a smell or scent that pervaded. I have visited many homes as a nurse, and some of them did smell unpleasant. Food smells, a lack of cleaning (body and environment) and wounds to name a few. My nose has always been a little sensitive to the scents and smells around me.
The scent of my men
In the main I haven’t got close enough to many people to actually breathe in the aroma of them. Because I have only had 3 lovers in my life, I haven’t had the pleasure, or displeasure. When I first met my husband, the family used imperial leather soap. I could smell him from a distance and no, that wasn’t the scent I detected in the house. Later some of his aftershave aroused me, just as well as he did a manual job and often smelt of grease before showering.
S wasn’t into the use of cleaning products or aftershave. He blamed his eczema and used a simple soap to wash in the shower. Sad to say it often wasn’t enough. I am pretty sure his excuse doesn’t hold up as Master also has eczema and it doesn’t stop him smelling clean. I suspect S sweated more, was less thorough and used the wrong products. He was also a bit tight when it came to spending money. Plus his job was also a manual one. Having said all that, his natural scent could be alluring. So long as he has recently taken a shower.
Master doesn’t have a strong smell. He washes with products that don’t contain perfume for the reasons described above and his aftershave – Chanel Pour Monsieur – is subtle. But when he holds me close and I breathe him in, he is unmistakably him.
The scent of us
I sometimes worry that other people can sense my arousal through my scent. But suspect that often only I can smell it. I wrote in one of my smut marathon entries about that aroma of sweat on a summers day when it combines with the scent of arousal. The story was about sex toys, but if I had continued in that vein it might have been a better entry. Anyway I digress.
He is definitely attracted to the scent of my sexual juices as well as the taste. He doesn’t smell much until he is very aroused, but tastes pretty good. But when our fluids have mixed together and are oozing out of me I can smell that. I love to lie there, nose under the covers and breath us in. That is a special smell that I had never really noticed before and is one to treasure. Sex and love, dominance and submission rolled together. I love it.
This third week since surgery, has been about getting back to normality and reality. But also about getting the balance right. I have been overwhelmed by everyone’s responses to these posts. They are essentially for me, a way of recording this journey. But as many people have pointed out, they will (hopefully) be useful to others in the future.
Once the wound drain had been removed and I had got the all clear from the doctor, we returned to our Airbnb in Oxford. The two-week festival of song (Lieder) was still going on and we finally immersed ourselves in it. Finally free of the plastic tubing sticking into my side, on the bra line, along with the vacuumed bottle in a handbag, I could again wear dresses and longer tops. At last it was possible to lie comfortably on my side and even turn briefly onto my right side for the first time. We returned home on Sunday and later, took a relaxing jacuzzi bath together. Sipping Prosecco, and allowing the water to lap around my skin was heaven. After the bath I left all the dressings off as everything appeared to be healed.
Over the course of the week, the area around the wound seemed to be swelling up. A cushion was building under my arm once again. I wasn’t immediately worried about all of this, and anyway wasn’t really sure how it should all look and feel. The worst part was that my new pretty pink bra was too tight. Had I bought the wrong size, or perhaps put on weight. On Wednesday night I discovered that a small area of the suture line was oozing serous fluid. I put a dressing over it and went to bed. Luckily I had a hospital appointment the following day.
The doctor drained about 100mls of altered blood from inside the wound area. Luckily I didn’t feel a thing (a mixture of using the stitch line plus the residual numbness). I was pretty surprised, not to mention irritated that the small bump on my chest had gone. I wasn’t meant to have a baby breast, it should have been flat. He told me that it was likely I would need the area aspirating again. I will, because the area has swollen again. Luckily though it hasn’t spread under my arm. It’s pretty obvious the physical healing process is taking longer than expected. Not surprisingly this is getting me down a little.
Sex, drugs and rock and roll
Since the operation, I have been anxious that G would no longer find me attractive. To begin with he was nervous of the wound and dressings and also of hurting me. He was clear though, that he still found me attractive. During the course of this week we have resumed our sex life and thankfully that has meant many orgasms for me. I am reluctant to get on top yet because my wound area is a bit sore. The gravity pull when leaning forward is quite painful. It is weird that I have had more pain this week than after the operation. I have even resorted to taking a few pain killers (that is the limit of my drug use).
There is no doubt I feel more positive about my body and his reaction to it. He has begun to touch and stroke my right side and that means a lot to me. I don’t necessarily like what I see when I look in the mirror, but I am getting used to it.
Our lifestyle right now isn’t exactly Rock and roll. But we have been able to return to socialising. On Wednesday we attended our local Munch and I caught up with Molly, Sub Bee and others. Thursday my brother visited and we had dinner out. Then on Friday I returned to my slimming group, had lunch with a friend and in the evening G and I went out to a concert. A busy few days indeed.
Until the middle of this week, I was pacing myself well. I have been sleeping well at night and resting between activity. Even while in Oxford I didn’t feel especially tired.
But yesterday I woke feeling exhausted. The emotional energy required to tell people about the event of the past few week is enormous. Doing so much on Friday was in hindsight a mistake and I see that I need to make sure I balance rest and activity.
Feeling tired and emotionally drained made my mood low. I could easily have gone back to bed before lunch. Instead we walked into town and did a little shopping and then had lunch. Afterwards I took a nap and woke feeling much better.
This coming week, I am going to try to work on the balance between rest, exercise and other activity. I have taken on a small piece of work that involves interviewing people by phone, collecting and reading some data and writing a report. It isn’t onerous but it is something else to juggle. There are also hospital visits once again.
Over all, as I reach the end of week 3 I feel well. But recognise that as I increase activities I must take care not to over do things. Or to be too eager to get completely back to ‘normal’ life.
The image above taken in the garden of my house before the move in July has been transformed through Prisma.
Master named it Ice Princess. It signifies the change from summer to winter. Since it was taken, my body has also transformed some what. I am not quite ready to show those changes, but happy to celebrate my body as it is here.
I love to look around cemeteries and graveyards, I find them fascinating places. Particularly those containing the remains of people from long ago. I wander around looking at the names, dates of birth and death and wondering. A collection of graves, or a family tomb can help you create a picture in your mind of the lives people may have led. Did they live long lives, marry young or later on. Did they have children who died young, or did they go on to have families of their own? All questions with potentially no obvious answer.
A final Resting place
Cemeteries abroad are often a little different from here in the UK. For a start they tend not to be near to a church. Catholic cemeteries in France and Spain are often large, containing large mausoleums, or little huts with coffins in side.
On one of our first holidays together Master and I travelled to Lisbon and there we discovered a magnificent cemetery specifically for British people. Though there were actually people from other nations buried there too.
Last year we visited the area around the Somme in France, and saw the enormity of the loss of life from world war 1. Row after row of white headstones, many of which unmarked as the remains were of unknown soldiers. Beautifully kept with flowers between graves they quite took the breath away. In contrast the German graveyards were dark, sombre places. As with the allied graves though, they contained the bodies of young men. Many of whom were not, or barely out of their teenage years.
Fun in a graveyard
I can’t imagine wanting to strip off for photos, or to have sex in those places. It would be highly disrespectful and inappropriate. But I can imagine doing so in some of the old churchyards here in the UK. There is something daring but exciting about such a prospect. Perhaps it is the age of the graves and that often you can barely read who resides beneath. Or that they are often quiet, spooky places with few visitors especially around dusk. Maybe the grass is overgrown and the plants a little uncared for, offering an opportunity to hide. I don’t know. But this does feel like an opportunity as yet unexplored.
1. Tell us about the last road trip you made: When? Where did you go? How long was the overall trip? Did you go alone? Did you have fun?
I regularly go on trips to see my mum who lives 2 hours away, but our last proper road trip was in June. We picked up a hire care at the airport in Slovenia and then spent 2 weeks travelling around a good part of the country. We walked up hills, through forests, explored churches, stayed at a spa and the seaside and visited the capital city. We had lots of fun, including capturing a few Sinful Sunday shots. The pictures below were taken on our travels.
2. Do you love to travel?
Most definitely. There are so many places I want to visit and whole areas of the world so far unseen. However we also like to go back to places we have been before, so there is a balance to be had. This year, as well as Slovenia we have visited Spain and France. I also took my mum to Cyprus. Plus there are the trips that we take in the UK. Some friends believe we are rarely at home!
3. What’s the best place you’ve been? Do you want to go back?
I am not sure I have one ‘best place’. I love Seville in Spain and have been a number of times, as I have the South West of France. A couple of years we went to Sicily which was wonderful. I would like to return there.
4. Would you travel for sex? Have you traveled more than 50 miles just to have sex?
I have, yes. During my relationship with S, I spent the best part of 2 years travelling to his home for sex. The journey, while only 100 miles or so away took around 2 hours. In hindsight, I gave far more to that relationship, and made more sacrifices. However, he taught me a lot about myself and helped me learn about submission and BDSM. Even if some of that was what it wasn’t rather than what it was. Hopefully, I have no further need to such a relationship since I am with Master now.
5. What sexual act or sex position do you struggle with doing?
I don’t think there is anything I struggle with particularly, you would have to ask him!
Bonus: What are you into but have not told anyone?
Again, I don’t think there is anything I haven’t told Master. My blog is something of an open book in relation to my kinks.
How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!
There are times when I wonder if I am truly submissive. As I go about my daily life, making decisions and just getting on with things. Should I defer on all things? Should I ask for more direction?
Well, no actually. After almost 5 years in this relationship we have settled into our roles. Yes, things have changed. I don’t feel the need to be in control all of the time in all things. I no longer need to know everything that is going to happen, I trust him to be in control. That includes deferring to him for advice in a way that I had never known possible before. Master has a quiet, but powerful way of getting me to make decisions where I need to or ensuring that he does where it is better for me. I know I am a strong woman, but I need his support in more ways than I even knew. What is more, I am happy and proud to be his submissive.
What does safe mean?
He makes me feel safe. Indeed, my submission gives me a safety net. It means that I trust him to look after me whether in daily life, or when we are playing. I feel safe that he is making the right decisions for me and us. That isn’t to say that I don’t argue, become ‘unruly’ or ‘bratty’. But who doesn’t push against what they know to be good for them?
Safe also means a safe word. I may be a slave, but we have never abolished my safe word. While I have never used it, I would if I needed to. As it happens, I only have to express that something is wrong when we play and he will stop. I guess that is what makes me feel safe in his hand, I trust him to make sure no harm comes to me.
BDSM in submission and play
Our life when it comes to BDSM and kink play is set into something of a routine. Our sex-life may look vanilla to the uninitiated observer. But only if there were no sound on the video – words and actions are important for us. Just when I think things are a little predictable he makes me pee on him, or he on me. Or he will make me get on my knees, undo his trousers and tell me to suck him off.
Play is not a regular feature, but we have the equipment at the ready and suddenly it will appear. More recently we have attended clubs where both my submission and our play have been on display. I hope we can find a way to continue to do that, including the CMnf events.
Limits over time
When we met I thought I was pretty clear about my limits. Over time he has pushed them slowly and carefully. My level of trust is such now, that I am happy to declare I have no limits. In truth of course there are, but he knows what they are. I have faith that he wouldn’t put me in danger, but will stretch my acceptance of his kinks. You can’t make this kind of thing happen, it takes time, patience and communication. And we have worked on all 3.
My advice to others
Be prepared to look deeply at yourself and to answer questions about your words and actions. Even those in the past. Trust that you and your dominant will need time to settle into your roles, just as you do in regular life. Allow your submission to develop in your dominant’s hands, let them lead and trust your true personality to emerge. It isn’t always easy, you won’t always get it right but a strong relationship will allow you to be the submissive you both want. Finally trust your instincts – if you think you are submissive then you probably are.