The need for dominance

I am walking through the woods with my dress pulled up. I'm not wearing underwear

I thought I liked to be in charge. To have the final say, to get my own way. Well I do, but only up to a point. As an older sister I was bossy, and sometimes a bit domineering. So much so that one of my brothers bought me a post card of Adolf Hitler from a museum gift ship once. My husband was indecisive, still is of course. I made decisions because otherwise none would have been made.

When I met S, it was a relief to be given instructions, to have decision making taken from my hands. When we grew apart there were a number of things that began to grate on me. His dominance wasn’t one of them.

It’s the same with Master. It isn’t that he tells me what to do or exerts obvious control over me. But the signs are always there, often below the surface. From the first day we met, I have asked Master’s advice on things I probably would have done previously. With anyone else, save, perhaps my dad. Also I tell him things, I trust him like I have no other. Like telling him right from the beginning about my blog.

Master believes he gained a lot of useful information by having read every post I had ever written. Some of them several times. My blog has told him where my strengths and insecurities lie. Given him ideas of ways to except his power over me and give us both amazing experiences. Sometimes I have written things that I have been unable to articulate in words. This was especially useful before we lived together.

Dominance in the bedroom is always something I craved. But what I failed to recognise was my need for it in other areas. It is only now, when I look back that I can see this to be true. I like to come up with ideas of things to do and also to be consulted. But I don’t always want to be the one to have to make them happen. Or else to have to lead on making them do so. Over the years I grew weary of always being the one to make plans, or booking holidays or trips. Worse, being the one to take the brunt of stuff that went wrong.

I’m sure if others knew the extent to which I defer to Master’s decisions they would be surprised. I know I’m bratty, ‘unruly’ difficult to manage, but I am sure that is part of the appeal. For me, it is his steady unwavering control. That I feel compelled to consult even though not told to do so.

The collar is important. My commitment to him. The fact I have agreed, willingly to be his slave, his property. It serves as a constant reminder of who and what I am. Of him as my dominant, the man who put it around my neck and locked it in place. That I have a key, is irrelevant. I don’t tend to remove it without discussion. Though once or twice it has been removed in anger, it has always been put back on within hours.

Sometimes I fight against the dominance I know I need. That he knows I need. Of course, later in the series I’ll talk about my submission.

Other Ds – D/s as you would expect, day out (love a day out and wish we could have them now!) and death. Those posts relate manly to my dad who died in 2015. Lastly dungeon reviews, which I hope to continue to build on.

She wore a butt plug

Day 2 of Blogging A-Z 2020 and today’s word is Butt Plug. I’ve written many times about wearing a plug, though only ticked it as a category 8 times. Maybe because it’s often linked with anal sex. Anyway, it’s been too long since I wrote any fiction, something I regret. So here goes.

She knew no one could see it

But that didn’t make it any easier to manage. The possibility for humiliation if anyone discovered was huge. Master had introduced this rule last week. Each morning after showering and other toilet needs she bent over while he inserted the butt plug of his choice. This was to be worn at least until lunchtime and preferably until she returned home in the evening. A rule introduced because she had become so slack at wearing it without inspection. It wasn’t that she wanted to break rules, its just that life got in the way. This ritual was to ensure that she stopped forgetting. And remembered that she was His slave. To put her firmly in her place.

Her job as personal assistant to a company director involved moving around the office a lot. She was responsible for ensuring the smooth running of the office, organising and setting up meetings and chasing after contractors. Dashing about, bending over to check something, stretching to reach something else. All part of daily life and made all the more challenging when wearing a business suit, no panties and a butt plug.

Worse though was the effect the plug had on her cunt. All day she could feel her clit throbbing. And all day she longed for relief. To feel Master’s cock inside her. Or, to have him tell her to make herself come. But this was the office and she had a responsible job.

Today’s plug was a medium sized Njoy.

The bulb had stretched her anal sphincter somewhat as it was inserted and taken a moment or two to slide into place. Now, as she sat at her desk, lowering herself carefully onto her chair, she could feel the metal ring between her buttocks. Back straight she concentrated on her posture reaching for the phone as it rang. Midday, she knew who this would be. You see, there is more to this story.

“Come in to my office slut” The voice at the other end instructed.

“Yes Sir” She replied meekly. Then standing carefully she walked quickly across the office taking care not to arouse any suspicion. But then, this was all part of daily life, and no one noticed. David was great to work for. Firm but fair, generous and understanding. But he was also Master’s best friend. The person checking she was complying with the rules. Knocking on his office door she quickly entered and flicked the sign from enter to engaged before awaiting further instructions.

“Good girl” He said, looking up.

Categories beginning with B

I wrote about butt plugs last year, but I make no excuse for doing so again. Not surprisingly the category beginning with B with the most posts is BDSM. However that is a ‘super parent’ as it were with many other subcategories underneath. There’s also blogging, body image and breast cancer which feature quite frequently (for obvious reasons). Also blow job, bondage and beaver. Yes, I once categorised a post beaver. He is a little furry friend all the way from Oregon.

Hoxton Dungeon, a review

I hadn’t intended to combine the review of our visit to the Hoxton Dungeon with my Sinful Sunday post for the week. But given the events of this week and my lack of posts, plus the photographic evidence in hand, I thought: why not? Other dungeon related posts can be found here.

Some background to the decision to stay at the Hoxton Dungeon

For the past couple of years we have been sensible enough to stay in London on the Sunday night after Eroticon. We usually stay a little away from Camden because it suits us for a couple of reasons. First we like to have our own space and secondly we like the hotel we tend to stay in. On Monday, we were due to attend (and did) a concert. Master suggested we stay the night closer to that venue. I imagined a hotel close by. Instead Master decided we should stay in a dungeon further away. But who am I to argue. Plus, it turned out to be a fabulous idea.

The place

Hoxton is an up and coming area of North London, though this part of the area is not without its edginess. The dungeon is contained within a ground floor flat on an ex council estate. There is parking, along with the relevant permits if needed. We were using public transport, and the nearest station (Old Street) is about 15 minutes walk away. There are plenty of bars / café’s and places to get food around the area.

The flat is spacious, with two dungeon rooms, a bedroom, kitchen and bathroom. Plus that particular room contains a bath (more of that later).

The play rooms are well laid out with more equipment than it is possible to use during an overnight stay. All the more so because, although Eroticon hadn’t actually happened, we were still tired. It had as usual been a pretty full on weekend with insufficient sleep.

Equipment

The Hoxton Dungeon is owned by Madame Caramel who is a mentor and lifestyle educator, so there is a definite leaning towards Female dominance, so the equipment available reflects that. That’s not to say there isn’t more than enough to satisfy Male Dom and whatever submissive play.

My photos above, are a little moody, so check out the more professional ones on the dungeon website.

Playtime

As is often the case after a busy day / weekend I struggled to get into the right mind space. But once tied in place and blindfolded I relaxed into the situation.

I am secured to a bench. There are some lovely red marks on my right buttock and a bruise on my left.

Afterwards

The venue is kitted out with a full kitchen, and large fridge freezer. Drinks are supplied, though the fizz is low alcohol, which might be just as well. We had eaten a good lunch and took snacks with us so we didn’t need to go out. Water is supplied, though we thought ahead and took our own as we like sparkling. The bathroom is spacious and has a large bath with shower. We took advantage and relaxed post spanking in the bath. The bed was extremely comfortable.

The flat is part of a block and you can hear the neighbours moving about so care is needed to restrict noise. However that didn’t cause us a problem. Neighbours didn’t keep us awake either, since we were quite exhausted.

In conclusion

We needed more time. The Hoxton Dungeon isn’t a place to go when you are already weary from a busy weekend. But we still managed to fit in a fun play session. I’d love to go back for longer and be able to make better use of the amazing facilities.

Fucked on a picnic table

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.

I am kneeling on the seat of a picnic table. My dress is pulled up to my waist and I am exposing my bottom.
A throwback picture not linked to the original event

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.

To be continued!

Co-dependent

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.

Chilling

For the first throw back Thursday of this years February Photofest, this photo of Master chilling out. This was taken at Stoxx, which sadly no longer seems to be available. As well as showing him relaxing, it gives an idea of some of the equipment. We can only hope the owners rent it out again sometime. I’d love to stay there again!

I am, because we are

It is a coincidence that as I walked home yesterday I was thinking about this topic. Wondering about who I am now as we enter the 7th year of our life together. Wondering whether I am worthy as his submissive and partner. I came to the conclusion that we are where we are because of who we are, together. So, some background.

Last weekend was the 6th anniversary of the day we met in person. This year we celebrated by going out for dinner. We often eat out, but usually it’s because we are doing something away from home and dinner out is easier. This was a meal out for itself.

Today I received notice that the first part of my divorce, the decree nisi will be heard in court in March. 6 weeks and one day later I will be divorced. My entire blog catalogues my own journey to this point. In many ways I am the person I was at the beginning, but of course events have changed me. Plus taking on the role of slave and starting a new long term relationship has added to that.

The person I was

Confused, probably sums it up. As I approached my 50th birthday I knew change was needed. My life wasn’t going as it should and I wanted something different. Trouble was I didn’t know what that different was or how to go about getting it. I consider my self lucky that the two men I met along the way helped guide me towards discovering what that might be. The fall out from my ex was hard to bear. Last week while reading some old posts from 2013 to link to my privacy post I came across some very disturbing writing.

My husband was playing me. I know that now since at the time he was already in another relationship (still unknown to me). But meanwhile he manipulated me and made me feel I was beyond dreadful for cheating on him. He made me sleep deprived by turning up early in the morning and then he snooped through my emails and was generally horrible. All the time I cooked meals for him if he decided to be home. Made sandwiches and did his washing. YES, I actually did those things. I was a complete doormat. I now know I should have kicked him out and changed the locks. But that’s with the benefit of hindsight.

The person I am

From the beginning of my relationship with Master things changed. He listened to me and helped me work out how to navigate the way ahead. I didn’t always to what he suggested to begin with. But usually there was some method in his ideas. His own other relationship was messy and so we worked through those times together. Sometimes that meant just being there for each other. I know there were times when he felt less dominant for it, but this was a human need not about power exchange dynamics. Not many months after we met my father became terminally ill and died. The support Master provided during that time set the scene for the kind of partner he would be.

Running parallel to all of those more intimate and personal elements of our relationship is the kink. Power, Dominance, submission, kinky sex and play. Over the years we have learned what is our norm. The things that feel safe and right. But we have also pushed each other to try new things.

For a very long time we played in the privacy of our own home and occasionally in a privately hired dungeon. It was also a while before we ventured to Munches and in the end it was through talking to people at those events that drew us to play events. Then recently we started meeting up with some people we met at one of those. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that often I’d prefer to stay at home. Well until I’m there that is. But that is also true of attending vanilla events even with friends.

Am I submissive enough? Is he dominant enough?

These were my thoughts as I listened to some podcasts while travelling yesterday (details below). My idea of submission at the beginning of this journey was based on erotica and other blogs. Training plans for submissives, men with dungeons in their basements, kneeling naked etc. It isn’t like that. For obvious reasons. But when Master tells me I’ve been bratty, I do stop and think. When he tells me to kneel and suck his cock I do it. When he asks me if I’ve achieved the things in my planner, I do reflect. And when he tells me his is proud of the person I glow with pride.

He has helped me become the slave he wants, but also I have helped him to become the dominant I need. Our life together is the one we have made together and it isn’t like anyone else’s I’m sure. But it occurs to me that we are who we are and I am the person I am because of us.

At some point soon, I am going to draw a line on some of the past. We share enough history on this blog not to need to go back further. The posts will remain but they will be archived from view. They are not ones that are retweeted anyway. Time to move on.

Thoughts generated from the following podcasts

Master's plaything

This would have been a great image for this objectification post from last week. But I wanted to save it for February Photofest. I’m not really sure why this hasn’t been featured before, but really happy to include it now. This was also taken at the secret Dungeon

As you can see my nipples are clamped, plus there is the hood and lead. I was definitely Master’s plaything that night!

Pegs – not just for clothes

The current Kink of the Week is pegs or clothes pins as they are called in some places. Now, the application of pegs to my body was the first form of pain I inflicted on myself at the hands of another. As I describe in this post, S instructed me to apply pegs to my nipples while we spoke on the phone. It was mainly a long distance relationship and he wanted to exert his control over me. So, many times he instructed me to do things to my body while he listened (and later watched). This was my first introduction to Dominance and submission, and I was surprised at how readily I wanted to comply.

Nipple play

Using pegs on my nipples was the forerunner to the introduction of nipple clamps. Nipple pain for me was a sure fire way of getting me to orgasm, and then some. There was a clear channel between those nipples and my clit. It still exists but having only one nipple things are a bit different, but I digress.

The other thing about using pegs or nipple clamps is that while having them in place is painful, it is their removal that causes pain. But that pain is somehow quite delicious and can last for quite some time.

Master hasn’t used pegs for nipple play, he uses them for something altogether more evil. The Zipper.

The Zipper

Around 8 pegs have been joined together by string, and these applied to the lips of my pussy. Then an evil sadist comes along and pulls the string and off come the pegs. This is absolutely fucking painful. And amazingly fabulous at the same time. This photo was taken early in our relationship, the first few weeks. You’ll see I was shaved, and soon after was instructed to grow my hair. Also there are marks! As I wrote in my previous KOTW I really hardly ever mark! Also look at that post for a glimpse of nipple clamps being used elsewhere!

We haven’t used the zipper for sometime and I don’t wasn’t to make suggestions that I might live to regret but actually it would be good to get to that place again. Yep, pegs in kink play are a damn good thing, plus they are cheap. Plus if really necessary you can even use them later to hang your clothes out too dry. Though maybe not if they are tied together with string!

Objectification in our relationship

Me wearing a dog mask.

I’ll start by saying that I’d decided not to write for this prompt on Tell Me About, because I have nothing to say. But a conversation with Master reminded me that actually it is part of my life. Somewhere over the past few weeks I’ve forgotten, partly because objectification is just an every day part of our lives.

When I wrote this post it was all new. I’d recently learned that being called a slut or bitch turned me on. Being ‘this girl’ made me smile because it confirmed my role as his slave. Somewhere in the mists of time I’d forgotten that he objectifies me by calling me those things. Of course I haven’t forgotten that I love it, but it’s just we’ve settled into our lives and roles over time.

When I refer to myself as his bitch, it turns him on. That is just a small part of our power exchange. But also it’s key to our Sex Life. Power equals sexual arousal for him and the knowledge of my submission to him still makes me wet.

We use objectification during play, especially when we have space. A few times we’ve stayed overnight in a dungeon and used the facilities to bring that side of us out. Master bought me a dog mask and tail and I have enjoyed wearing them for his pleasure. Dungeons often contain cages and he loves to watch me as I lie there feeling degraded and horny.

That’s the whole thing about degradation and objectification. It feels wrong and right at the same time. We shouldn’t get off on wearing a dog mask or wearing a leather collar and lead. But we do. To begin with that was puzzling to my previously vanilla brain. But over time I’ve embraced my kinks and delighted in the reaction they have on him. The fact that he fancies the pants (if I’m wearing any) off me is a thrill in itself. That his kinks involve objectifying me is especially exciting.

Recently we attended a new club. There was a woman wearing an entire dog costume and being led on a lead. I don’t think I’d want to do that, but I found it fascinating. Then there was the guy wearing a pony saddle and giving people rides on his back. Those places can be a thrilling insight into other people’s kinks. And even if it isn’t your thing it is mighty interesting to watch and see. But also it shows you what you could try out if you so desired. This world of kink is rarely dull!