Goals for 2019

We are now 9 days into this new year and so far 2019 is going ok. The F4TF prompt this week is goals and ambitions for the year.

What are your goals, dreams, ambitions for 2019?

2018 was incredibly busy and my main hope is that this will be quieter, calmer and much more pleasant. I have a sense that this will be the case. We have plans to travel both at home and abroad and have booked a couple of trips. The first and most exciting will be a holiday in Cape Verde at the end of February. This will be our reward for getting through the traumas of the past few months.

Somehow I need to factor in finding some paid work and intend to set up a couple of meetings after our holiday to explore how that can be achieved. I plan to freelance and where possible work from home or wherever I am. A new 10 year health plan published by the government this week might help as there will be a need for people who can help to localise this.

Health and wellbeing will be a big factor for me this year. I need to lose weight ready for the breast reconstruction. This is slightly different from the general desire I have had for years but haven’t been able to sustain. My health scare has taught me that I need to be more mindful about what I put into my body. Recognising how much I love alcohol is important. After a week of dry January I am still craving wine at dinner, but feel pleased with myself for choosing water instead. I am finding other, non alcoholic drinks to try and haven’t resorted to Pepsi max once. I reintroduced sugar at Christmas and am now trying hard not to crave it again. These aren’t resolutions for the new year, but actual attempts to make lifestyle changes.

What, if anything, do you plan to try and change about your life? Why?

My focus is on myself, us and our relationship. The cancer diagnosis was a blessing in starting to make this happen. The test will be not to allow others to interfere or to allow myself to slip back to old ways.

There is very little that needs to change in terms of the way we live our life. Just to focus on making sure we achieve the things we want. Almost 7 years after starting this blog and I can at last say those things. All that is left is to get divorced and finalise any other legal things that are required.

Where do you see yourself in 12 months time?

For once in my life I am hoping for some status quo. Around this time next year I would expect to be preparing for surgery and then planning some great things for 2020. I can hardly believe that the century is nearly 20 years old and I am nearer 60 than 50. But strangely that feels less onerous than being 30 or 40 ever did.

Sensuality and the senses

It is with pleasure that I am able to contribute to a new meme hosted by Brigit Delaney. I am approaching 2019 with some blogging enthusiasm and so, having the time to sit and write is a massive bonus. The first prompt is about sensuality and the senses and considering my topic and approach led me to our last play session in early December.

We have attended the club in question a few times now for both CMnf and more relaxed social events. That day was a Christmas social and I had dressed in my Santa girl outfit, complete with stockings. My only other lingerie was my bra.

Touch

I climb up onto the bench and lean over so that my knees and shins are positioned on the leg rests. stretching my arms I am pleased to find that I can find a comfortable position for them. I lay my head on the cool plastic on the bench and close my eyes. Master lifts my dress and slowly strokes my bottom with soft fingers. He starts with a soft rubber flogger and brushes it over my cheeks, teasing as he strokes between my already moist thighs.

Hearing

There is music playing in the background. One of those CDs that comes out at Christmas with all of the old favourites on. Since it is early December, this is the first time I have heard Christmas music this year. I can also hear the sound of people talking, mainly in low voices to each other and also the sounds of others playing. The swish of a flogger, the impact of a paddle or cane and the cries of other submissive girls in the midst of pain and pleasure.

Master moves around quietly, choosing the next toy with which to torture and from time to time he checks in, whispering in my ear. Calming me, reassuring me and making sure I am in a good place, and I am.

Sight

I have my head down, and so my field of vision is limited. I am also facing the Christmas tree and the speaker from where the music is coming. Anyway, I keep my eyes closed for most of the time. It helps me to concentrate on the pain and on channeling my feelings about it. By concentrating on the sounds rather than what I can see I can block the real world from my head.

Smell

To begin with the main smell if of plastic and the alcohol used to clean the bench. It is not unpleasant, but kind of clinical. But as time passes and the intensity of the impact on my bottom increases, I become aware of something else. My nostrils fill with the aroma of my own arousal. That sweet smell of sex and this increases as he runs his fingers over my slick pussy lips. He sniffs his finger and then leans his head over mine. “you’re very wet” he says. “Girl is very turned on”. Indeed she is and she can feel and smell it.

Taste

When I had first lay down on the bench all I could taste was the Prosecco I had just sipped. But within minutes I can taste my apprehension. My mouth dries and I have to lick my lips to maintain some moisture. As time progresses and my own sex fills my nostrils so my mouth waters and I can almost taste my own juices. As the session draws to a close he leans and kisses me and then I taste a mixture of him, me and prosecco. An intoxicating blend.

Then and now

So many people have commented and indeed congratulated me on my strength. It is true that I have surprised even myself on how I have coped. Much of it is to do with my personality, the no fuss and drama me (though I can create both when provoked). Also because I like to have information before panicking and try to be optimistic in these matters. But make no mistake having breast cancer was the worst and scariest thing I have ever had to face. Losing one of my lovely breasts has been terrible, I morn it every day. In this post I will try to explain my then and now. There is no need to be sorry about any of this, I don’t need sympathy, just the chance to tell.

Then

Until pregnancy I was quite small busted, but while pregnant they grew and never went down. I always had a good cleavage and many people, men and women have admired it. High necked clothes don’t suit me, my face and neck look too fat in them. I prefer a lower cut dress or top. My bras were all plunging, not padded as they made me look bigger than I wanted, but underwired for support. Not that I was sagging especially; I was told I had great tits for my age (former relationship) and great tits full stop (this one). To me, with my expanding middle and puckered hips, my tits were my best asset.

Then

Once I gained confidence with my blog and began posting pictures of myself, they were often of my breasts. My pierced nipples, me bulging out of a leather waistcoat or wearing a leather harness. Master called them my jugs and played with them a lot. My nipples, especially the right were very sensitive and I have had nipple orgasms more than once. To me my breasts were my best asset and I am fucking angry and mightily sad that I now only have one.

Now

The skin around the wound is soft and smooth, but the scar line itself is kind of puckered with little folds. The area under my arm remains numb and puffy. No one can tell me if and when it will recover. I touch the wound area quite a lot. During the day the area under my bra gets hot and itchy and sometimes I can’t help but rub it. Obviously not out in public but in the comfort of my living room. Lying in bed too, I stroke it. You see, most of the time I can’t really tell I don’t have a boob there and of course neither can anyone else.

I have a silicone prosthesis that fits inside my bra, it looks (and feels according to master) pretty realistic. But you can’t wear this kind of thing with a skimpy bra with a plunging cleavage. This means that I have bought several new bras, but not thrown any of the 15 or more old ones I have away. However I may soon move them into a box under the bed for the future (see below).

Master still loves to play with the breast and nipple on the left side. He strokes and nibbles, pulls and pinches. He also strokes the place where my right one used to be. But it isn’t the same. Even when I am aroused by what he is doing, I am thinking of what I have lost. His fingers on my wound area and surroundings are pleasant, but there is no sexual arousal from it. Instead he concentrates on the left and my other erogenous zones.

Now

The biggest challenge for me now though is looking at other people’s tits. While I still love to look at everyone’s Sunday and other day blog and twitter posts. I can’t help but feel a twinge when I see a lovely pair of tits staring out at me. Likewise looking at old photos of myself makes me happy that I have so many, but sad that there will be no more like them. I also find myself looking for signs of the cancer within, of course there was never any sign.

Future

I know these feelings will pass. It has, after all only been 3 months since the operation and my treatment won’t be completed until the end of this month.

In the future I hope to have a breast reconstruction. To be able to show two breasts to myself, to Master and this little area of the world would be wonderful. I know any reconstructed breast won’t be the same. It is likely that the surgeon will have to reduce the size of the left one, so I would be smaller than before. But I know it is what I want. To be able to wear any bra, or to be able to go braless. Summer days with no bra, that has to be something to aim for.

Before that, well I will try to be as body positive as I can. But don’t imagine that this has been easy or that it ever will be again. I loved my boobs and I will have to learn to love having one again.

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

Time to share some shit

The past couple of weeks have been way busier than I had imagined they would be. Partly because my mum who was staying locally for Christmas extended her stay for my son’s wedding. Over the last couple of days though I’ve had the chance to do some reading and to begin some planning for the year ahead.

Recently I was sent a survey by Twitter about my experiences of their wonderful social media platform. I am only being slightly ironic about the word ‘wonderful’ since my twitter experience is generally good. I have met and got to know people through that media and widely promote my blog there. Anyway, they asked what I would like to see them do differently. I told them to acknowledge they shadow ban people and to refrain from doing it. If people do something wrong they deserve to know what it is. I won’t hold my breath though, since you aren’t changing something you don’t admit exits!

Onto my favourite blogs and posts of the last week or so.

An omission

It was only after she left a comment on my review of the year post that I realised I had completely missed out my meeting with Indy. The three of us spend a wonderful afternoon and evening together in September exploring Oxford. We managed to take a few great photos in the beautiful restaurant loo, which we cross posted for Sinful Sunday. Indy also visited me after my operation, bringing news of her travels and chocolate. Both were just the boost I needed having been told I needed to stay another night in hospital. You can read the first part of Indy’s own review of the year here. I wish we lived closer to each other as I know we would be great real life friends. But we intend to make the most of technology to keep in touch. News of a joint collaboration will follow (queue suspense).

Fabulous as 40 and beyond

It was great to meet Exposing 40 at Eroticon over the past couple of years. In fact she was the first person to come up and ask if I was MPB! I was happy and proud this week to be included in her 40 over 40 list, along with so many of my favourite bloggers, writers and tweeters. Also a few I don’t know and will need to follow up on. Exposing 40’s photography talents inspire and excite me and I am looking forward to attending her Eroticon session in March.

Pain and childbirth

Last year I also met Livvy at Eroticon, firstly I think when she asked me to sign her copy of the Anthology. We laughed when I almost wrote my real surname. It has been wonderful to follow Livvy’s pregnancy and then the birth of Martha just before Christmas. Her recent post about the pain and trauma of childbirth and how it relates to tolerance pain experienced during impact play.

As always, Livvy’s writing is thought provoking and honest. I can relate to her approach and the juxtaposition between her medial knowledge and the reality of giving birth. I recognise the euphoria she describes in the hours before the actual birth, helped along by the pain control she had taken. Interestingly I am able to find a similar place during play and I guess that is what Livvy might explore at a later date. I think her pain threshold is way higher than she imagines it is.

Inspirational writing and a new challenge

This week’s theme on Wicked Wednesday was Vignettes. I was keen to follow the prompt, but struggled with inspiration. I had a potential theme but worried that I hadn’t left myself enough time to get it done. As it was, my post about our dynamic took some thought and could have been written in that form too. My personal favourite this week was Brigit Delaney’s – The Storm. A beautiful tale so simply told through 11 vignettes. Hers is writing such as I aspire to emulate. I have so much to learn about erotic writing and we are lucky to have writers like Brigit around. She is a great support to other bloggers and writers is now launching her Erotic Journal Challenge which I intend to join.

Our dynamic

Our relationship dynamic, Master / slave can be described as a total power exchange. I, the submissive person have given control for much of my life to my Dominant partner. This has been a gradual process over a period of almost 5 years. While working and living in my own house I always retained at least some responsibility for my needs. While there has been no visible change since I moved in with Master I sense a growth in his power over me, and my submission too.

For many people practicing BDSM is a part time pursuit, something that takes place in the bedroom, a club or dungeon. Where each takes a role, for the duration of that session. There may be rope, or impact play, one might take a dominate role and the other the bottom or submissive. Even perhaps, roles are switched depending on mood and partner. In the early days, we intended our relationship to be more about play. But it soon became clear that we wanted and needed something more. Once he had asked me to be his slave and we had begun to negotiate what that might mean, there was no looking back.

Over the past couple of weeks as the old year came to an end and this new one has started I have been reflecting on our relationship. This has partly come about through writing my end of year blog posts. But also because I have been doing some thinking and reading. Master also bought me a new collar, and just yesterday a ring arrived for my regular one. This will enable him to be able to use a lead more when we are playing.

Thoughts on my submission

Living here with Master has enabled me to give more control of my life to him. Before, I always felt I must retain control financially and of family situations. There was also work, which of course came with responsibilities. Although I am still making decisions about what I want to do, I am doing less telling and more asking about them. I have my own money and I can and do spend it. But we are living in his house and there is more dependence on my part. While this may have scared the life out of me in the past, it no longer does. Indeed it fills me with pleasure.

My illness has shown me that it is ok to rely on another for support and yes, decision making. But the funny thing is, I don’t feel the need to take the control I have given up back from him. Indeed, I can see myself giving up more and more. This is strange, since I didn’t even realise I had more to give.

For a long time I have resisted some of the signs of submission Master asked for. Ones related to dress (wearing underwear), my hair length and getting a tattoo, spring to mind, but there are others. It feels though that this year I should take the plunge and open myself up to becoming the slave I know he desires.

Thoughts on his dominance

Power is the major driver for Master. When we play, it is the very fact that my body reacts in the way it does, to his body and the toys he uses, that drives him. During sex, he loves that he can control me and my orgasms. He loves that he can call me names such as bitch and it excites me. Me being his property is something that we both acknowledge and that enables his dominance to shine though. In those moments I am slave, MPB, this girl.

When I gave myself to him totally I also gave my limits. We had agreed what they were and as we moved along the power exchange continuum I realised that he could and should own them. I can still call red (though I haven’t) and he will stop. My consent has been given for Master to make the decisions in the bedroom, playroom and in life. But importantly this is reaffirmed regularly. He does so in such a way that I must state that my limits belong to him and uttering those words make him feel more dominant. Nothing makes me happier.

I know this isn’t a relationship for everyone. I didn’t even know it was for me and indeed I do question it myself from time to time. But 2019 definitely feels like the year for an exploration into how far this dynamic might take us.

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

Here’s to 2019

So 2018 is over. In many ways an awful year, but also one where great things happened, as I wrote in my review. 2019 promises to be one of further change, but hopefully less momentous.

Final thoughts on 2018

Looking at my stats just now, I realised I wrote 198 posts in 2018. Just a last push and I would have written 200. What has been different this year, is that even when I didn’t feel like writing I did. Those 198 posts comprised 72,546 words an average of 366 per posts. Considering my Sinful Sunday posts often contain no or very few words, that is good going. Over the course of the year my traffic doubled, and certainly over the past few months the level of interaction has been massive. During the year there were 866 comments on my posts.

The top 5 posts for the year were a little surprising:

  1. Chastity, does a girl need to be locked in – A kink of the week post from 2016
  2. Blog tour – A kind of blog share like #SoSS from 2014. Sadly none of the blogs mentioned exist today or are currently dormant.
  3. Posture – A February Photofest picture from 2016.
  4. Boobday Virgin – At last a post from 2018 and one I am very proud of
  5. First Experience – A kink of the week / Wicked Wednesday post about my first experience of anal sex written in January 2018

2019 is here

This year I intend to carry on writing about whatever takes my fancy. In past years I just stopped writing if I couldn’t think of anything sexy or kinky to say. Last year I realised I can write what I want here and people will still read and comment. This blog is now a diary cataloging almost 7 years of my life, every word remains valid even if I don’t like to read some of it.

There will be more fiction, I just still don’t know if I want to join the Smut Marathon. I’ll probably go right up to the wire on this. There will be plenty of meme participation including hopefully February Photofest. I’m pretty sure I will voice my opinion on a plenty of topics, some will be kink related and some won’t.

First of all though I have some treatment to go through. Yesterday I had 3 tiny black dots tattooed onto my skin and next Thursday my radiotherapy begins. I lay on my back, arms up while they performed a CT scan and ran through a simulation of the radiotherapy. My chest was covered with a gel mat which felt cool – probably a good thing as they will be using it during the treatment.

Radiotherapy will run daily (week days) till 30th so that will be January and then in February we will hopefully go away on a holiday somewhere warm. It is difficult to think past all of that at the moment, but we have ideas and plans for more fun things. I will need to find some work later in the year, but hope to keep to short freelance projects.

The biggest thing personally will probably be the divorce. Once that is done, then we will see what next.

From where I sit this afternoon, the first of 2019 the future looks pretty bright. Happy New Year.