My happiness is complete when I look at him and see this.
Without Master in my life none of these February Photofest images would have been possible. Whether because he took them, was in them or inspired them. Thank you.
So, that’s it folks for another year. Thank you for visiting and commenting. See you next year, by which time I will have amassed a whole new collection and won’t need to search the archives. Mainly because there are none left. The cupboard is bare!
This story is loosely based on fact. I really was fucked on a picnic table in the woods while wearing a leather collar and leash. But the rest of it is part of my fantasy of what might have happened that day. Content warning: Consent Non-consent (CNC), Humiliation.
A story of being fucked on a picnic table
If ever you go into the woods and stumble across a picnic table, do you wonder who was there before you? What might have happened here? And before you sit down and unwrap the sandwiches you might want to get out the wet wipes, because maybe the last people here fucked on that picnic table.
We met in the car park. As instructed I was wearing a summer dress, sensible shoes and nothing else. Although it was only around 10am the sun was high in the sky and it was warm. In those days I was yet to acquire a car with air conditioning, the open windows did nothing to cool my throbbing cunt. Anticipation rather than heat was at work here. You see, I had no idea what was in store for me. The man I was meeting was very keen on fantasy games and I was his willing victim.
I travelled light, apart from the lack of clothing I only carried a small bag, containing my purse and other essentials. Stuff you don’t really need in the woods (my phone maybe, but signals were poor). He carried a largish rucksack, containing lunch and who knew what else. Not me at that point anyway. He took my bag and put it inside his.
Of course he felt me up in the car park, in front of anyone who happened by, though I can’t remember if any one did. We hadn’t seen each other for a few weeks and we had the hots for each other. I might have fucked there and then if he had requested it. He put a leather collar around my neck and attached a leash, there in the middle of the car park. Then he walked me into the dense woodland and once inside, blindfolded me.
Completely dependent on him I followed his instructions about where to step. Periodically the leash would pull tight and I’d almost stumble. But as instructed I was silent. Concentrating on the sounds and smells of the forest. I had no idea if others were around us and was both humiliated and excited at this sign of my submission. I lingered on the edge of orgasm, made worse as my cunt leaked fluid that caused my thighs to slide together as I walked. I momentarily wondered if I would be permitted an orgasm today.
Suddenly he told me to drop to my knees, as I did so the collar pulled tight against my neck. I assumed the required pose, my knees wide, hands resting loosely on them. I heard some rustling and knew what was in store. Obediently I opened my mouth to take the cock that was thrust into it. I savoured the saltiness of his pre-cum and the very size of what filled my mouth.
“Good cunt” he groaned at me. I concentrated on sucking, my mouth wide and drool already running down my chin. His fingers reached inside my summer dress and pinched my left nipple. “take me girl, take this cock” He said as I felt a sharp pain, a clamp now pinched my breast. I groaned around the huge dick filling my mouth and tensed as pain throbbed through both breasts. For a while I was lost giving him the pleasure he demanded.
He pulled away and pulled me to my feet. His fingers groping for my clit, large and engorged, before pushing two into my dripping cunt. “you are such a wanton slut aren’t you” he asked. I nodded, because it was true. I was and am. “what do you want slut?” he asked. “speak”.
“Your cock Sir”
“Come” he gently pulled on the leash and I followed. My knees knocked into something hard and putting my hands out I felt wood. I ran my hands over the grain. “It’s a picnic table” I could hear him grinning. “We can have lunch here, but first, I’m going to fuck you on it.
Sir Helped me kneel on the seat and then to lean over it. He secured rope around my wrists and tied me to the table. I was now unable to move, though had no desire to do so. I felt his cock pushing into my soaking cunt as I lay secured to the table top. My knees were grazed a little by the wood. My nipples, with the clamps still attached sending ripples of pain through my body. He took his pleasure from me. A wanton slut, blindfolded and collared. Unaware that behind her there were 3 men watching and wanking.
Because as well as taking care about the cleanliness of a picnic table, you should also beware of mentioning your fantasies. Such as the one about being fucked in the woods while others watch.
Of all the new lingerie I have bought or been given recently this lace beauty is my favourite. It is comfortable to wear and has the ability to reveal and hide the parts of my body I want it to. I’m also happy with the way my body is beginning to change shape, though there is a little way to go with that.
Just when I thought I was out of images I’ve come across one not shown here before. I was taken as the same time as this one in November 2016. Electric play.
I don’t know how long it is since Master has used his violet wand on me. Reading back to the post linked above, it hasn’t been a frequent occurrence. But when it happens it does have something of a profound effect. I guess it is because I am a bit wary of electrical play. This image shows him using one of the many attachments he has for this toy. Maybe he ought to get it out again. Bear in mind he does read this blog…..
I never thought I’d want to be dependent on another person. When my marriage was ending I was adamant I wanted to be independent and to live alone if that was required. I like my own space and at the time I had a well paid job and was exploring what being single could mean. I was 16 when I started going out with my ex, so I’ve never been single. That’s still true in a way. But this relationship is different from that one.
Master first asked me to live with him at the end of a very boozy evening in Amsterdam. It was 2014 and he had just finished with his other slave. Our hotel had an honesty bar and we sat alone there drinking dutch gin, well I did. When he asked if I’d live with him, I laughed and said no. He had to agree it was a mad idea.
But actually it wasn’t such a stupid plan, it just took a while to happen. Our dependence on each other took a while and changes were subtle. Giving up control of orgasms and my body were nothing in comparison to depending on each other emotionally. And, this isn’t a one way road. He has emotional needs that I try to satisfy, to listen to his concerns.
I also bear the brunt of his rants about the ineffectiveness of the bank of England, industry in general, government, the EU. I’m also a sounding board for his knowledge on music, film and literature. If I wasn’t there he’d just be living in his head, so it’s a worthy thing. Plus I learn stuff without having to do the hard work. I also cook and am better at it than him, though he has an amazing palate and advises on flavour He makes a mean salad dressing and is king of what herb or spice goes with what.
Since giving up work and moving in with Master the dependency ratio has swung a little. This is his property, though our home. I have an income from my work pension, but it isn’t enough to support myself completely. He is managing my savings and making a good job of it. Right now, I could walk away with a reasonable sum of money, but I’d probably need to go back to work soon after. I have no plans to do so, but I do recognise my dependence on him financially. Or maybe it is that we are co-dependent because we live cheaper as two than we did living separately.
For him, my being dependent on him feeds into his desire for power and control. I have no problem with this and have willingly given him elements of me and my body to own. There is no abuse here so I am perfectly prepared to let him have the control he so desires.
It’s easy to see how power exchange could result in an unhealthy co-dependency. That’s why consent is so important – safe, sane consensual. Plus the importance of communication, checking in with each other.
As I said at the beginning, I never expected this life. But I am happy to have it. To be with the man I love. Yes, I’m dependent on him, but he is on me. This Master / slave thing is no one way street. We co-exist and are co-dependent. Hopefully we can grow old together this way.
There’s a new meme in town. Not sex, kink or relationship focused. But health related. I started my new blog, Food, Fitness and Health in November 2019 and now I am launching a meme. Full details are available here. It goes live at midnight tonight.
The first prompt is Physical Health. I’ll be writing about my breast cancer and how that diagnosis made me think about my health in a way I hadn’t before. Please join in. You know you want to.
The link will be open from midnight tonight until 12.00 midday on 8th March (UK time).
I’m out of new and original photos for February Photofest. So, some effort will be required to generate the 6 photos needed to make it to the finish line. Make that 5, because I snapped this image of myself enjoying my lazy Sunday morning in bed.
My mum is 80, she has surpassed expectations in living as long as she has. Including her own. She has a number of health problems, including type 2 diabetes. She smokes and eats cakes (a lot of cake) and chocolate. But as far as she is concerned, she is 80 and lives alone so everyone can just but out. She has a point. It’s great that mum is independent (think crazy old woman on mobility scooter), to a point. So far, so lovely I hear you say.
Trouble is that my mum is no cute old lady. She is absolutely toxic. I love her, but I really don’t like her as a person and I’m not alone. Sadly she has upset a lot of people, consequently she sees very few people outside of the immediate family and her neighbours. I don’t think she has upset them nor the hairdresser / nail stylist, indeed the latter loves that mum has such a dry sense of humour! That’s not what I’d call it but I’m not arguing.
As part of the prompt for this weeks Sex Bloggers for Mental Health topic – Toxic People, Cat has published a list. This details the kind of traits people who are toxic possess. Sad to say my mum is that entire list.
It would be easy to put mum’s behaviour down to old age. Perhaps she is developing dementia? But I don’t believe she is and anyway it’s clear she has always been like this. I vividly remember her mum, my grandmother shaking her head when I told her of mum’s selfish behaviour. She told me that “your mother will die a miserable and lonely old woman”. Sadly she probably will.
Generally everything that is wrong is always the fault of someone else. Mainly my brother and I. She is rude and sarcastic and takes pleasure in running us down to each other and others. Especially in public. So much so that my brother refuses to take her out to eat or to have her to his house. Though he relented on Boxing Day last Christmas. We have witnessed first hand her harsh tongue, especially aimed at our partners. Indeed she never liked any of the people we married or have lived with. Though her memory of our past spouses is apparently coated in rose tint!
This Christmas she even (unwittingly) started to turn her own grandchildren against her because of her manipulative actions. Sad to day I spent far too much time on Boxing Day discussing these actions with my son and daughter in law.
But, she is an old woman. A widow. She is dependent on us and know it. It was easier to ignore her and leave her to stew when she was young and my dad was alive. These days I have to do what is needed. Visit regularly and try to hold my tongue.
I wouldn’t ever leave her alone on important dates. I phone even though I have nothing to say.I’ve taken her on holiday several times, though don’t know what to do this year after last year’s difficult time. I am sad that my relationship with my mum is challenging, that we aren’t close in a way others are. The only really good thing that has happened since dad died is that I am closer to my older brother. It’s not true that the only thing we have to discuss is her. But her challenging behaviour has helped us. Mum doesn’t like G, the feeling is mutual. She has behaved horribly towards him because he won’t humour her and agree with her crazy ideas. But he and my brother get on very well.
It’s a difficult situation that we manage as best we can. For me, I’m determined no one (least of all my son) will ever call me toxic!