Writing

I have always enjoyed writing

When I was 8 I was entered into a writing competition at school and won a good called ‘Mrs Cockle’s Cat’ for my troubles. I had a vivid imagination as a child, and preferred to create my own fiction, rather than keeping to exactly what the teacher might have wanted. So much so, that in a music competition at aged 11, I made up a tune rather than follow the one on the page in front of me. I found my own life dull and so also told ‘tales’ of a more exciting existence. At some point during my secondary school years though I realised I had to start to be truthful and also produce the work requested. But that didn’t stop me and a friend writing romantic fiction about the boys we fancied. But we restricted our activities to evenings and weekends.

Once in nursing school

My life became about writing patient notes and reports, plus of course essays and course work. There was little time to continue creating fiction and anyway I had my own boyfriend by then. Plus nursing friends with interesting relationships and patients who led fascinating lives (well one or two of them did). My writing was forced to take on a factual side and what’s more it could no longer be based on my opinion.

Some time in my early 20’s I began to write fiction again. As before, I wrote in longhand in notebooks. This time, given that I was already married but bored with the long hours my husband worked, the romance became a little more raunchy. Sex had been a bit of an anticlimax in my own reality and so I became creative on the page. Looking back it is amazing that I was able to write such erotica given my lack of experience. Remember that back then, there was no access to the wealth of information we have today. Mind you at least I was aware of anatomy because of my nursing experience. Once I had my son there was little time for writing for pleasure. I was soon back working full time, studying for a degree and looking after him. My hands were full enough.

At some point in the 90’s we got ourselves a computer in the house

Soon after I found myself helping my son to create his own website about his favourite cartoon characters. I impressed myself, as well as him when it actually worked. Not long after that I discovered blogger and began my first blog. This was based on my work, by now nursing management. I wrote mainly opinion pieces and some that were researched as well as a kind of academic diary. In fact, I later used the blog as the basis for my reflective practice aspect for the Masters I was studying at the time.

My work over the past few years has involved a lot of writing – reports, papers, proposals and the like. Some long and in-depth. I have enjoyed constructing them, though not always the deadlines. But it feels as if the creativity I once had is somewhat buried beneath facts. My attempts at writing fiction on this blog while well received haven’t been easy to produce. I have much more time to write the things I want to now. So, perhaps it is time to rediscover the imagination I know I had as a child. What I won’t do though, is to stop voicing my opinion. This is my blog and I can write whatever I wish.

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The changing nature of my submission

#Sccwriting

The empowering nature of submission

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. 

Recovery- week 2

I am now 11 days into my recovery from mastectomy surgery and while I am still a little sore, I am healing well.

Physical recovery

Once the bruising started to come out, it was evident that it was widespread. Around the wound, towards my back and even on my remaining breast. After a few days the scar began to itch, I took this as a good sign. Everything was covered with dressings, which to begin with were waterproof. By Monday this week, though they were becoming wet and so I had to refrain from showering.

The drain site was the worst part. It gradually became more sore and I was constantly adjusting my bra. This is embarrassing since I was often lut when I needed to fiddle. Bloody fluid contined to to drain much to my annoyance. This meant that the nurses wanted to visit daily. We had things we wanted to do and we both became irritated with waiting in till 5pm. Other patients were more of a priority and so I only managed to be visited early once, on Sunday. They didn’t like me cancelling the visits even though it was clear I could manage the thing myself.

Thankfully, when I attended my appointment at the hospital on Wednesday the drain was removed. The site was on the verge of becoming infected and so this was the best option. There have been no I’ll effects and the swelling began to reduce almost immediately. I have a feeling that the drain was causing more problems than it was resolving.

The wound is healed, but there are still a few bruises and a little swelling under the arm. I can now step up the recommended exercises, which are necessary to make sure I regain full movement in my arm. It feels right and stretching my arm over my head is challenging at the moment.

I have found a company called Amoena that sells beautiful lingerie, swimwear and tops for people who have had breast surgery and have a bra and pants on order. If I am happy with quality etc. I may be spending a bit of money there.

Emotional recovery

In general I am feeling mentally strong. But certain events that have occurred over this last couple of weeks show that my mood can drop easily. For example the hospital transfer a couple of days after the operation made me weepy and very upset. Made worse by the confirmation this week that it had been unnecessary. Encounters with the nurses, a different one each time made my stress levels high. I am anxious about my body image and how it will affect our relationship going forward.

We have kept ourselves away from family and friends and this has helped. We have a way to go before I, he and we are comfortable with my body as it is now. I suspect that is something I will write about next week. Also in the coming days we will be seeing family and attending our local munch.

I feel ok speaking about the surgery and cancer with Master and close family but less sure of myself with others. I am clear though, I need to be open and not pretend nothing is wrong. This journey is far from over.

A week on

Tomorrow it will be a week since my surgery. It has been a strange time. A period where I and we have had less control over events and our lives than we like. I know in the future we will look back on this time and recognise it was just a week. But right now, it has felt a lifetime.

I wrote about the day of the operation and my immediate thoughts here. Remarkably I was less than 24 hours post surgery. I was still under the influence of the anaesthetic and a strong pain killer taken over night. The disappointment of not being allowed home that day had subsided. I knew I wasn’t ready. But I did feel very well and positive. Sadly my positivity didn’t last that night.

In the afternoon I had a visit from the lovely Indie, who took time out of her sightseeing schedule to spend time with me. she brought chocolates and a friendly ear. We chatted and laughed as well as discussing some of the more serious aspects of this whole episode. 

Later that evening I developed haematoma. The operation had taken place in a hospital with no emergency facilities, and although there was an on call doctor, he wasn’t part of a surgical team. Around 11pm at night, he and I imagine the more senior doctors he sought advice from, decided I should move to another hospital. It is only a few miles away, but involved an ambulance, time in an assessment unit and then transfer to a ward. Suddenly I felt alone, scared and completely out of control. My bubble completely burst and over a period of a few hours I felt quite desperate. 

Looking back

I can see I was unrealistic about the size of this operation and the potential complications. It is also clear that those explaining things were pretty blasé about the risks. The chance of me ending up with a wound drain was high, yet I was told it was something I might have. 20% of women end up with a haematoma after mastectomy, and that is a reasonable risk. But I hadn’t really looked into it at all. We were told that it would likely be an overnight stay, but from where I sit now, I can see that was unlikely. 

I wonder why it is clinical staff are so keen to shed a positive light on recovery times. The fact that I went into this with such a rosy view has meant that what happened after was quite a shock to the system.

Getting out of hospital was quite a challenge on Thursday. My surgeon is based at the original hospital and seems to have a pretty heavy workload. So another doctor saw me on Wednesday and Thursday. He would have preferred me to remain in hospital but I had had enough. Because I still have the wound drain home services were set up for me. But I really didn’t want them. My long nursing career means I know how to manage a drain and understand what to look out for. Sitting around waiting for someone to measure the output is not something I want to do. I don’t think I was being difficult when I asked for Saturday off from visits. But it is not something they seem all that used to. 

Practical stuff

I have ordered a bag so I can carry the drain around. It arrived yesterday, but unfortunately I was out and the postman has taken it to the sorting office. Meantime I have a shoulder bag that is the right size and shape. I am getting quite good at hiding the tubing. And as with other things, people don’t really observe what is going on around them so I doubt many people have noticed. 

I discovered last week that Marks and Spencer have a range of post surgery bras. At the moment I need something front fastening and soft, so have this one. But have already found a company that sells colourful and pretty soft bras and have one on order. Soon I will buy something much more delicate. I want to be able to feel at least a little sexy. The insert I have is soft and while it feels odd I can see that it does look pretty normal from outside. 

I am pretty bruised – I even have a shiner on my remaining tit (I wonder how that happened). but at present the scar is hidden by dressings. My body looks weird to me and I know to him too. We are not quite ready or indeed able for him to explore it. But we are speaking about the changes to my body, my body image and what that might mean.

There is a long road ahead and it has only been a week, but we have coped amazingly well considering. I am not brave or special, I just want to be able to look back and know that I have managed this process in the best way I can. This might not have always made me popular, but I am not changing my personality for anyone. What is more, I could not have done this without the love, care and support of the man I love. The man who is my Master. 

Pause

It feels a little as if we are on hold right now, someone has pressed the pause button. Around me, people are busily getting on with their lives, caught in the daily grind while I sit here and wait.

Life for me right now is made up of endless hospital appointments interspersed with doing very little. Shopping, cooking, the odd evening out, all of those things continue. We are also making time for some sex – well there is plenty time for sex, but obviously we don’t have sex all the time. There are still things around the house to be done, the big declutter continues – for him that is. Plus I continue to gradually unpack (assisting in his declutter). 

Yesterday I dug over a patch of the garden. It had become overgrown with weeds and grass. Also some bulbs with leaves but no flowers, we have no idea what they were. Now, the ground is clear and I have planted bulbs. This might be the last bit of strenuous work I do for a while. Very soon I will have to pause even more.

This afternoon I will get the results of the MRI scan, which took place only yesterday. The scan was a weird experience, not entirely unpleasant just very odd and noisy. Surgery will be soon, and today I will know when. Before that I will have a blood test and on the morning of the operation sentinel node imaging. This seems to be my life right now.

Having said all that, we do have one thing on the agenda. A two week trip to a nearby city for a classical music festival. For the past two years, this has been our way of taking a break from real life. A pause, you might say. Well it starts on Friday and we plan to spend as much of the next two weeks as possible there. Hospital appointments and operations permitting. We have an airbnb booked and will stroll the city, attend concerts and lectures. It will be a great place to pause the pause as it were!

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The follow up post can be found here

Our changing lifestyle

Friday 31st August was the last day in my job. I bought cakes and fruit for people in the office, went for lunch with colleagues and then sent my final emails. For the first time in my almost 38 year career I voluntarily walked from my workplace with no job to go to. 5 years ago I was made redundant, but within weeks I was working again. This time will be different, I am as yet undecided as to whether I want or need another job. What is more, I have made a deal with myself not to think about it until the new year.

This week we are in France. The weather is glorious, the days still a little longer than at home. We have nothing to do but be together and to remind ourselves of why we love just being together. On the spur of the moment we have extended our stay, because we can. We don’t need to be home till Sunday and neither of us has work or other responsibilities to pull us back yet.

The events of the last weeks – the move, winding down then leaving work – have sapped me of energy. I have struggled to feel sexy for my man even when he tells me how much he wants and needs me. I have slept alot this holiday and while awake Master has paid lots of attention to me and my body. Gradually I am beginning to feel human again and yes, a little horny. He asked me this morning how that manifests itself, and I had to think. It is a long time since I took the initiative, made it clear what I want. Now though maybe I am ready.

Our lifestyle to date has involved me working 4 days a week and spending those evenings alone at home, then us coming together for the weekend. Some Fridays I visit my mum and stay over. For months there has been work around the house, packing, decluttering. But now we have much more time to be together and make a life together.

What is clear is that certain elements of our M/s relationship which have been a little on the back burner will be able to come to the fore. We have been talking about our feelings, of ways in which his dominance and my submission is important to us. This is an evolving picture and something I will express here on my blog over the coming days, weeks and months. What I know is, for the first time I am putting me, our relationship and importantly Him first from now on.

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

Looking back at my Smut Marathon experience

Today the round 7 Smut Marathon results were published. We had been out for the day, but as I was the passenger rather than driver, I was able to take a look at the comments and then results. I was pleased to see that my favourite story came top and that others I enjoyed did well. The quality in this round was amazing and voting especially difficult. 

Round 6

In round 6, I was eliminated from the competition, something of a relief. On 15th July, when the results were published I was feeling rather unwell. At that time I didn’t know what was wrong, but for a few days I had been tired and lacked energy. Worse my bladder had developed a mind of its own. When I needed to pee, I really did. 

I was also in the middle of packing up my house to move. Months, if not years of preparation to leave my marital home and move in with Master were coming to a conclusion. The Smut Marathon was really the least of my priorities. In the run up to the deadline, I wasn’t sure I would even be able to write. But in the final few days I wrote something.

In hindsight it is clear that just dumping my thoughts into a document and editing for word count only is not going to be enough. But to be honest, I felt the need to send something, anything. It felt wrong not to submit an entry when others had been eliminated in the previous round. So time for a confession. Until today, I have not looked at my entry, I haven’t read anyone else’s. I didn’t vote and I didn’t comment. when the results were published, I responded to Marie’s email telling me I had been eliminated. But I didn’t look at the scoring or anything else.

I feel embarrassed to admit this today. But in mid July I had no energy for a writing competition. I had a urinary infection, was about to move house and like most of the rest of us in the northern hemisphere was existing in a heat wave. 

Today I have read comments on my entry – #14 Slave’s deepest fantasy. People were in the main kind but clear. My punctuation left something to be desired, I used the same or similar words in close proximity (a pet hate) so clearly I hadn’t edited properly. What is more, mention of the prompt was at best transient. I could have done better.

What I have taken from the competition

Fiction is something I have to work at. It doesn’t come naturally to me, even adapting my own life experiences feels like hard work. I struggle to be creative, to think outside the box. I am in awe of my fellow participants who easily write about crime, vampires and science fiction. In part, this might be due to the fact I don’t read masses of erotic fiction and when I do, it is reasonably mainstream. But I know my writing has improved during the time I was part of the Smut Marathon. I have been encouraged by the wonderful feedback and help from Marie. But also the comments left by the judges and those voting. 

My favourite round was 5 – I wrote a story from the perspective of a sex toy. I will post the story on my blog in the next few days since I am proud of it. Somehow I found my creative juices and allowed my writing to flow. In that round, I received my best votes and also feedback. I will take that forward into next year. Because people, I know I can write, I can edit my work and I can put commas in the right places (most of the time). I also do have a creative side and I can show it. I will take the experiences of this year with me. But also, I will continue to learn from those still in the competition.

Journey’s end?

This journey

Yesterday I had some time to sit and think about my blog. About the journey I began over 6 years ago when I started writing. I pondered whether that path had reached its conclusion. At the beginning I had no idea where I was going, if anywhere. All I knew was that I needed something different in my life. Something more than I had then. I understood this was to be a journey and thought I would know when I had arrived.

The two relationships that were in place back then are history. Extracting myself from my marriage of 30+ years has proved harder than I imagined. That journey has been painful and emotionally draining. But he is now happily living in what was our home with his (not so) new partner. Recently I attended his mum’s funeral and saw them together. It was clear that they have a strong relationship, something he denied to me for a long time.

Last night I mentioned to Master that I wasn’t sure about continuing this blog, because my journey is complete. But is that true? For him, my moving in to his home as his 24/7 slave has greater meaning than I understood.

Being his Slave

Over the past few months I had almost forgotten about that element of our relationship. Of course, I wear my collar and cuff and my piercings are a constant physical reminder. Our sex life is always a reminder of the M/s nature of our relationship. But during the busy and very hot days of June and July we didn’t have loads of sex. Preparations to move meant we spent lots of time at my place, but we were busy and everything we did was about working towards the move.

The first week or two were a period of adjustment but gradually we are settling into something of a routine. Only now though am I able to see the subtle changes that are coming to be. Even as I considered whether I wanted to write my blog any more, even as I uttered the words about the journey, I knew.

Over the past couple of years being Master’s slave has in the main been about what we do in the bedroom or play room. Not about our every day life. I am, as he often tells me an unruly slave. Rebellious, open with my thoughts and feelings, often pushing back against any attempt to control me. That’s easy when you have your own home and don’t live together. Also when you are financially secure and don’t need to rely on another.

Now though things will be different and what I have discovered is that he is excited by this. He loves the fact I am here with him, he wants to have more control over me. Also that I will be more financially dependent on him (though I have my own money and may yet get another job). He enjoys taking care of me, cooking and so forth. I also want to take care of him, and find my submissive self reawakening.

We had some very hot sex last night and again this morning. It is often during those moments of heightened arousal and passion that the truth is spoken. I clearly saw in myself, particularly last night a need I had forgotten existed. Over the coming weeks I fully expect to need to articulate this much more. What better place to do so than here on my blog.

The end of the journey? I don’t think so.

What I know now

It is the 50th Food 4 Thought Friday, which is a major accomplishment. I am in awe of all within this blogging community that run memes. There is an extraordinary amount of work. So well done and thank you. Having said that, I usually struggle to participate in everything. But since I am trying to post every day in June, and I am on holiday, with wifi, here goes.

What I know now

What one part of your sex life today would most surprise the 18 year old you?

Probably that at the age of 55 I have sex at all. I was so naive back then and uneducated about sex. I never envisaged people as old as I am now even had sex.

What one thing might shock that younger you?

The extent to which I enjoy sex. That being with the right partner is the key to enjoyment and that we are meant to enjoy sex (not sure if that is one answer or 3).

Is there anything in the younger you’s sexual ambitions or fantasies you have not yet fulfilled?

I have probably surpassed them. Having bought the Joy of Sex shortly after my marriage when I was about 22, we spent some time trying out various sexual positions.  I wish I still had a copy to check out if I have had sex in all of them. It felt slightly naughty and a bit hippy at the time. I’m not sure if anal was even in there, but if it was then I’ve done that too.

What part of the younger you’s sex life do you look back on with the most nostalgia?

Probably the ability to work all day, party all evening and still have sex at the end of the night. Because we had so much energy then. I have a hunch that Master and I would have been proper party animals if we had known each other. Because as I said at the beginning, compatibility is the key.

His voice (and other things)

I don’t think we spoke on the phone before we met. I’m not even sure we had a voice conversation on MSM (remember that messaging service). Our conversations, and there were many during that week or so, were all text. But on the basis of the things that were said, we met. It was a pub and it was a Saturday afternoon.

Sitting in that pub, with my diet coke (I needed to keep my wits about me and hadn’t eaten) we sat and talked. I probably spoke much more than him. Nerves will have given me verbal diahorrea and I tend to have a lot to say anyway. I can’t remember if I was turned on by his appearance, but possibly not. There was definitely something about him though, his hand on my leg, the smell of him and his voice.

In the most, Master is softly spoken and to me his voice is a little deeper than you expect. He is a slight, slim person but when he opens his mouth there is something about the tone that stops me in my tracks, even now. With the cultured English accent of someone brought up to speak properly, he pronounces his consonants. There is little more sexy in my book than someone speaking dirty in a posh English accent. He knows a lot of stuff, he is (scarily) well read, attended one of the top universities and is intelligent. I love just listening to him speak. True to say, mind that I sometimes drift off and forget to actually listen.

Sometimes too he says things I disagree with, we don’t share the same politics for example. But we can get around that because we have the same values and some how manage to compromise.

Accent, tone of voice or other verbal cues from another can be attractive, sexy or the opposite. But a relationship is never going to develop on that basis. Master doesn’t have a toned and muscly body, he has the thinnest legs of any adult I have seen. But he is strong, fitter than he looks and has a very nice cock, plus he knows how to use it!

He is kind and considerate, looks after me but also keeps me in check. He tells me he finds me sexy and that I turn him on, just at the time I feel worst about my body. There are some irritating things about him: he has to check out facts before he believes the expertise of others and sometimes he still prefers his own view. He gets sidetracked easily so might not get things done quickly. Sometimes he can be brusque, say something another might find offensive – a case of mouth before brain. But I know his heart is in the right place and that he can probably discuss himself out of the hole he has dug.

I never believed I would find another man to be in love with. Master has taught me so much about our dynamic and helped me find out who I am. He has shared his love of books, music, film and travel. In return I have given him myself and my submission, not to mention the benefit of my own wisdom and interests.

My instinct that February day 4 years ago has proved right. I didn’t foresee we would still be together let alone that I would be about to move in with him. But I am and these are just a few of the reasons why.
Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked