Ready

I hadn’t intended to disappear from the radar this past week. But events over took me and I’ve had to go with the flow. The great news is, we are in the warm and sunny south of France. The other good news is we are enjoying some great food and drink as well as the sun and sea. On the downside we have have been forced to rent a couple of local properties (due to availability) because our own place is currently uninhabitable (hot water issues). But that in itself has brought new joy. Because we have had the chance to experience some period houses, places with thick stone walls and spiral staircases.

So, once the initial stress has passed. Once I came to terms with the need to spend serious money on sorting out the water heater. Plus, once we had access to wifi (another issue to be sorted). I was ready for some fun and attention. Ready for Master to take me and to crave my body.

Master took this photo of me and modified it to make it black and white so it fits with this month’s Sinful Sunday prompt. But I couldn’t decide between the more natural and the over exposed one. So I’m posting them both.

Hopefully I’m also ready to write and post many more words this coming week, in between doing all the DIY we expected to do and making our apartment habitable again.

M/s: Reality or Fantasy?

A modified of me standing with my hands behind my neck. You can see my breasts through the black halter neck dress and I am wearing my collar.

“Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living, it’s a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope, and that enables you to laugh at life’s realities.”

~ Dr. Seuss

My post about following orders got me thinking. Is my life as slave to Master a reality or a fantasy that we both buy into? Actually I’ve been thinking about this for a while, ever since I saw a thread on twitter suggesting the latter. In essence that a power exchange is a game and that people can take themselves and it too seriously. To an extent that might be true, but then that could be said about a lot of elements of life.

Is life like a game anyway?

Throughout my working career I felt like an actor in my own play. Each job was its own scene. The person I was at work wasn’t the same as the person at home. As a nurse I had responsibilities thrown at me from a very young age. The only way to get through the stresses of people being sick and dying was to act like a competent provider of care. Of course I became one after a while and so acted the competent manager etc.

Same really with parenthood. It’s not like you get a how to parent manual as you leave hospital with your baby. You muddle through, accepting help and advice or ignoring it depending on what and who gave it out. But ultimately it’s down to you to work out how to stop the baby crying, what to do about a 7 year old preferring your bed to theirs and so on.

When I was unhappy in my marriage I played a game of happy wife, which fooled everyone including my husband. Eventually though the cracks begin to show and something has to give.

Is a Master / slave dynamic a reality or fantasy?

If I say I am a slave and if Master says I am a slave then I am one. If I choose to follow certain rules laid down by him then it is a definite reality. Our dynamic is there all the time, even though it isn’t evident to outsiders or sometimes even ourselves. The collar is worn 24/7 and if I take it off I ask first. We aren’t into punishment but that doesn’t mean that I don’t know what the rules of engagement are. Nor does it mean that I don’t adhere to them, most of the time.

Others live a stricter M/s existence, more a kin to the stuff I like to read about in books. Enforcing more rules takes work on the part of the dominant and compliance on the part of the submissive. But one thing is for sure, it is a reality.

For me it has acted as an escape mechanism. You see, my life is no longer an act. Granted I’m not working (well not going out to work) but still. I’m not pretending to be happy, or competent or whatever. I’m just living my life. So it occurs to me that being a slave is less of a fantasy than being a happy wife ever was.

This post links to Quote Quest and The Blog Days of Summer. Click below to see who else is joining in.

Taking orders from Master

A submissive shouldn’t question a dominant’s orders. It’s not the submissive’s position to know what a dominant’s reasons are. They should just do it and trust the dominant with that decision.

During our day to day life we don’t have the kind of relationship where by Master says jump and I ask him how high. Our life together is a partnership. That isn’t to say that there isn’t a power exchange element to our every day lives. There is. Over time I have given much of my decision making responsibilities to him. He books things up and arranges things for us to do (or did before the world went tits up) without discussion. Just as he often initiates our kink and other encounters. However that doesn’t mean we don’t discuss them first.

It’s taken me years to get to this point. As I mentioned in my last post, I have always had a tendency to want to control everything and everybody. To the extent where the effort wore me down. Meeting someone who wanted to make decisions on my behalf was something of a relief. But allowing it to happen didn’t come easily.

In my fantasies I am a malleable and obedient submissive, but in real life I don’t want to be that person. I’m a strong minded individual and I’d rather be called bratty than a door mat. Anyway, that isn’t what Master wants, I highly suspect he likes my bratty side. So long as I know when to stop.

Having said all of that, it’s not often that orders of any kind are issued and they tend to be in a specific context – play, scenes and sex. And then, I’m usually pretty happy to do as I am told, often without question. Well too many questions anyway, because I often struggle to shut off my inquisitive (or nosy) mind. Master loves to give surprises (of a pleasant kind), which is when new toys and clothes suddenly emerge. There are rarely dull moments when he gets and idea in his head.

Even though I have relinquished my limits to Master, there is always room for discussion about something new. Neither of us thinks that he should hold all the information and I should just do as I’m told. Nor do we think that instructions should be parked out as orders.

So, the reality is that a power exchange is a balancing act (just like other relationships). Communication and discussion is vital so that each partner understands the rules of engagement. But, it takes time to get to a place of clear understanding of roles and responsibilities. In this relationship I think we’ve worked out what we want and need and that is just fine for us.

This post is shared to No True Way and is part of The Blog Days of Summer. Click below to see who else is joining in.

Master with a capital M

Photo by Sara Kurfeß on Unsplash

I’m really happy about the No True Way prompt for this week, because I’ve never written about this topic before.

Dominants tend to be the “Alpha Male”, and that is why “Dom” is always spelled with a capital, while “sub” is always lowercase.

First of all let me say I am incredibly inconsistent when it comes to the use of upper / lower case. There was a time when I always capitalised dominant, sir, master etc. There was also a time when I used a lower case I to refer to myself. I guess at the start of my submissive journey I followed what I saw others doing and what I saw written in books. But over time I decided that it would be better grammar and writing practice to capitalise properly. But to be honest it depends on my mood and what I’m writing about.

Being in a submissive mindset

Way back when I was busy discovering my submission my world view was a little romantic. I liked the idea of having my very own dominant and being his submissive. Writing about my experiences was fun and sometimes very arousing. Part of that was overplaying the dynamic a little. Referring to him as Sir or Master helped with what felt a bit like role play.

When I met my now master he wanted me to refer to myself in the third person (as I wrote here). So, it felt right to capitalise him as Sir / Master and to refer to myself as this girl (lower case). Submission felt tangible to me, I wrote about almost being able to touch it. Some days I still feel like that. But at that time we really only saw each other at weekends and during the week I’d write about it. That kept me in my space and I wrote in the third person.

Over time I wrote about other things

Not just our relationship. So gradually I wrote in the third person less and also capitalised the dominant role less. However if I wrote about us and the things we had done I often reverted. Sometimes I still do.

It occurred to me recently that though I always refer to G as Master (or master) here it’s not something I always do in real life. We live together and are partners in many ways. The power exchange is always there, an undercurrent. But isn’t always overt even to us. Calling him Master here is a habit, but also helps to protect our anonymity, even if there are photos of us both on this blog.

I’m not precious about whether I or others capitalise or not

I’m not part of the grammar police, though I prefer correct spellings. I am happy to read blogs and books where the words sir and master are capitalised, or not. I recognise my own inconsistencies and make no excuse for them. I’ll continue to do what I feel is right on any given day. After all, this is my blog and I’ll write what I want in whichever way I choose.

This post is linked to two memes. No True Way and The Blog Days of Summer. Click below to see who else is joining in.

All submissives should have a safeword and be prepared to use it.

Not just submissives, but anyone engaging in BDSM or kink related play and / or sex. As I wrote in this post last year I’ve had a safeword in both of my D/s and M/s relationships. I believe they are an important aspect of relationships or situations where a power exchange takes or place. Or where restraint is applied and where sensory deprivation (such as blindfolding or gagging) are used. Safety of both parties is paramount, with particular emphasis on the person at the receiving end of the action.

Negotiations

I’ve never played casually with anyone, but if I did setting boundaries and negotiating what would take place would be vital. I’m pretty sure I would be prepared to use my safeword if necessary but would be sure that safeword wouldn’t be NO. During a scene it is easy to feel a little overwhelmed and ask for things to stop when you really don’t want them to. On the other hand, losing touch with reality can prevent you from using your safe word when you should. So, the Dominant partner should be prepared to stop even if the submissive hasn’t asked to.

In my two dominant / submissive relationships, boundaries and limits have evolved over time. This relationship has lasted over 6 years and we know each other well.

Giving up my limits

As Master’s slave I took the decision to give my limits to him. He knows the few things I identified at the start and I trust that he isn’t going to break them. What I haven’t given up is the right to a safeword. I know he would never ask me to.

However I haven’t actually called red. I have said amber and I have asked for a break. There have been times when things that shouldn’t hurt have. He knows me and is very good at identifying when he should stop if that happens. Master is also a good judge of when to push my pain threshold and when I’ve had enough.

What if a Dominant thinks that a true submissive would never use a safeword?

My advice to anyone who had been told that would be to steer clear of that dominant. They are not worthy of the submissives submission to them.

It is never ok for a dominant to tell a submissive they can’t and shouldn’t use a safeword. Plus it is not true that they are not a true submissive if they use one. That lives in the realms of fiction and poor fiction at that.

Click below to see who else is participating in this week’s No True Way.

TTWD

Me standing naked looking out of a window. A cathedral can be seen in the background.

“The thing is that you brought this out in me. How could I want it with anyone else” – JM Storm

One of the best ways I know of describing our kinky life is this – The Things We Do (TTWD). I first saw the phrase / abbreviation on other blogs soon after I started blogging and liked it. That’s because the things we do are unique to us just as our relationship is unique to us.

I came into the relationship with a better knowledge of sex and kink than I’d had just a couple of years before. I’ve written many times about my limited sexual experiences before the age of 50.

An education

My time with S certainly proved to be a voyage of discovery. I left that relationship thinking I knew it all, only to discover how wrong I was. More importantly the discovery that the relationship itself is vital in determining TTWD.

S was interested in power exchange, but only during play or specific scenes. He was especially keen on scenes that we acted out. He liked to tie me up and to inflict some pain. But lacked the knowledge or inclination to take it very far.

I was a keen pupil and pretty much fitted in with his desires. I didn’t yet know what I wanted or needed, though I did crave his dominance over me. Over time it became obvious that he wasn’t going to be able to give me what I needed. The sex however was great, even at the end.

Learning about myself – MPB

Master said he was looking for a play partner who was submissive. I went in to the relationship expecting just that. But as I wrote soon after, I got much much more. I learned that my need for submission was greater than I knew. And, his desire for me to be his slave was overpowering.

Whereas with S, bondage, humiliation and degradation had been paramount. With Master, the power exchange was most obvious. Next was play. This was play in the context of his power over me. Together we explored restraint, exhibitionism, pain and pleasure in a way that was completely different to my previous experiences. Different, not because everything was new but because the context was different.

Over time Master brought out feelings about myself and TTWD that I hadn’t imagined, not even while reading erotic fiction. Sometimes this was scary, but in the main it released me from the constraints of my previous life.

This is our relationship and I need no other

Over 6 years have passed since Master and I got together. If you’d told me then that this would likely be long lasting and all we’d both want, I would have laughed in your face. But this is how it is. He is the man I needed all along and all I need now. Some of TTWD have changed over time. For example most of our play takes place outside of our home even though we have the equipment. Our sex life ebbs and flows, due to libido, need, time of the year etc. Since we live together our sex and play isn’t concentrated into weekends and holidays.

My submission might appear less overt than originally, though of course my collar is a constant reminder to me, us and others. Sometimes I worry it isn’t enough, though deep down I’m pretty sure it is. I am enough. He is enough and TTWD is enough.

Click below to see who else is joining in with Quote Quest and Every Damn Day in June.

Sexual Service

I am kneeling over the sofa. Wearing only a top. My arse and labia are visible and exposed.

I am a sex slave. My role to Master is to provide him with sexual service when he requires it. But also to be ready for him to use me when he wishes. This post is a work of fiction based on a limited amount of reality but mostly reading, fiction and non fiction.

My word of the day is RULES. Every day Master texts me a word or occasionally phrase while we are both at work. At the weekends, if we are home he tells me the word. Corner time is at 4pm which is shortly after I arrive home. I remove my clothes and then kneel on the floor in a corner of our room on a carefully placed pillow. Knees wide, back straight and hands behind my head. The purpose is for me to concentrate on my word while naked and vulnerable. To think about the meaning of the word and it’s relation to my service.

I know the rules by heart. I know that the key purpose of my role as Master’s sex slave is to be his slut and to provide him with sexual service. The rules are in place to make sure I do just that.

Rule number 1

I shall always be available for his use. This means that I do not wear underwear unless he says I should. In effect this means wearing a bra at work. At home I am often naked, unless we expect visitors or it is very cold. I also wear an apron when cooking. There is a certain vulnerability to never wearing panties, especially when I am aroused or hot. I often think others can small my cunt, though no one has ever mentioned it. When sitting I am not to cross my legs, often Master will tell me to sit with them wide open, even when we are out. This can be humiliating, but also a massive turn on.

When he decides I am to provide sexual service, to be used, which is most days, I must thank him. I beg him to use my holes, to come inside my slut body. Or, of course outside if he wishes. Whichever I thank him for the gift of his come.

Rule number 2

I am not allowed to touch my cunt nor come without permission. However Master tells me to touch myself often for his pleasure. This is fine when we are home alone together, less easy when we are out or have people over. Often when we are out eating dinner I will have been instructed to play with my clit. To bring myself close to climax, to edge. One hand on my fork and another on my lap, or so you may think. Other times it will be his fingers that stroke and tease. He studies me closely, watching my cheeks grow pink. He’ll then make me come when we get into the car, there in the car park or by the side of the road.

I am able to control my orgasms quite well, even when he uses the wand on me. But I really have to focus, to concentrate on my submission and remember that he is the owner of my body and my orgasms. He takes great pleasure in making me come the moment he demands. I don’t know how he does that!

Rule number 3

He is known to me as Master or Lord and I am this girl, slut or slave depending on his desires. I understand the meaning of this. I am nothing but the name Master choses to call me. Of course I have a name at work or when with family or vanilla friends. But always I know that I am property. His and his alone. He is my Lord and Master. I worship him and await his need to use me. That isn’t to say that I am not loved, cherished and cared for. Sometimes I am his pet, often his lover. He takes care of me, cooks for me, takes me to lovely places and buys me things. That he owns me is calming, reassuring. It makes me feel safe, wanted. His.

Rule number 4

I have a number of daily tasks, these sometimes change. Each morning I suck his cock if required. I also stand or sit in the shower or bath while he pees on me. I can’t say I enjoy it but I am used to it. It is warm and I have come to appreciate the feeling. I find it arousing, indeed humiliation to me is a massive turn on. After a shower and I have shaved my pussy, legs and underarms, I insert the plug he has chosen for me. This is worn for 2-3 hours so is removed in the bathroom at work. I dress in the way he wishes, often looking quite demure from the outside.

Throughout the day we keep in contact. Be both have busy and demanding jobs, but text a few times. There is usually a photo for me to take and send though.

Rule number 5

I kneel and present myself when Master arrives home

My working day is until 3pm. This fits in well with my sexual service duties and also those around the house. As mentioned above I spend half an hour in quiet contemplation before moving on to any house work and meal preparation. That’s not to say Master doesn’t do his fair share of house work etc. Because he does. He is particularly responsible for food shopping and this is one area where I tell him what might be needed.

Master texts me as he leaves work or the shops and I then prepare for his homecoming. This is a special time for us both. I kneel in the living room and wait in readiness for him. He greets his slave and inspects my body and asks for details of my day. Then he goes to change while I start dinner or put things away. Then he will open wine and we’ll often share the cooking chores.

There was a time when I would spend the evening at his feet while we watched TV or played music and chatted. But now I’m that bit older the sofa has become a better place to be, for us both.

Our evenings tend to be like most other peoples. Except I am usually naked and he is likely to be stroking some part of his property or making me suck his cock as he feels appropriate. Often we will retire to the play room where Master will restrain his slave and torture me. Pain and pleasure are such amazing bedfellows.

This is the life I chose

When we met, I quickly learned what life would be like if we came together as a couple. Master and slave. He was clear that it was a sex slave he desired. One he could use for his pleasure, whether sex or play. We discussed and wrote down our kinks and fetishes. On the day of our collaring ceremony I gave myself willingly to him. My limits are now his. Most decisions (outside work and my family) are his. The body that belonged to me is now his, as are the orgasms and control. He has total power over me and this is the life I chose. My role is to provide sexual service to my Lord.

Nipple (singular)

Blogging A-Z - N

I hadn’t expected that the only two categories beginning with N would involve the word nipple(s). But since that’s what it is, I feel compelled to write about it.

Things in the nipple department feel a lot different now I only have the one. I’m not in love with my remaining boob in the way I was when I had two. My nipple is still pierced and I have new jewellery. But I am tardy with changing it. I have no problems in looking at my body, and do so every day. However I don’t really look at my remaining boob, much less the nipple. I do still self examine, but not as much as I did. I’m on oestrogen inhibitors so I am not expecting anything to appear. Plus I’m sure I’d recognise the signs. No, I always look at my scars, at the way the skin changes colour around them. How well they are healed. The fact you can still see where I had radiotherapy.

Master approaches things from the opposite direction

He still finds my tit and nipple attractive and bought me the new jewellery He loves to touch, squeeze and suck. I love it too, while it’s happening. I do still get off through nipple play. But not as much as before. I’m pretty sure it’s psychological. Something about the breast cancer and mastectomy I’m kind of blocking out. The photos on my blog of me topless since my mastectomy are taken to show I’m happy to be seen. That I’m not ashamed of my body and I’m not. But I struggle to be proud of what remains, and that seems a shame. Maybe I’m too hard on myself.

A new boob

The surgery to get a new boob is huge. I’ve been lucky to make a friend through this blog who has advised me on the reality. Teri contacted me through the blog and I was lucky enough to meet her during Eroticon weekend (even though the event was cancelled we were both in London). The operation is extensive, the recovery long and potential side effects serious. But the time we met, Teri was about 6 months post op. She could finally say she was pleased with it her new boob and the fact she can now go braless. That is a key thing for me too. Right now I don’t feel happy braless. It just feels weird.

Surgery involves taking some of your tummy fat and putting it under the flap that is left of the breast. There isn’t quite enough flesh so people end up with a patch. what you don’t get at this point is a nipple. This is fashioned later and then the area is tattooed. From photos I have seen, the effect looks fabulous. If and when it’s ever done and completed I’m sure my tits will look great again. Especially as one of the things they’ll do is to perk the other one up a bit (middle aged sag etc).

But a painted nipple isn’t really a nipple at all. No baby could be fed from it and there won’t be any feeling in it. This is the hard cold reality. Looks good but feels of nothing. Much like the right side of my chest right now, numb.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful to be cured. Grateful too that these opportunities are available and that I don’t need to pay for them. But that doesn’t take away the sense of loss.

Who knows when?

The current pandemic has thrown routine surgery into the long grass. People requiring mastectomy are currently not offered immediate reconstruction. Those of us whose hospital / surgeons don’t offer that option can’t even get onto a waiting list. But the time this is over they will be months and months behind.

In a way this offers me the opportunity to get my head into an even better place. To decide for sure if I want it done. But also to try to get more enjoyment from the breast and nipple I have. Maybe, during the summer if the weather is right, go braless. In fact I think it’s something I’ll set myself a goal of doing. I don’t love my nipple any more, but I’m going to see if I can’t like it again.

This girl – speaking in the third person

It was a way of getting me to settle into my new role, as His submissive. Very soon after we got together, Master asked me to use the third person when referring to myself. At first I thought he was joking. But, no he wasn’t. He suggested I use one of the following: this one or this girl. I wrote last year about being called a girl at the age of 50 something and how strange that felt. This girl was a step on from that, but it is what I chose.

For a time on this blog I wrote in the third person. I did it to get used to referring to myself in that way. I stopped because not every post lends itself to being written in the third person. Plus it wasn’t an expectation. There are plenty of times, face to face though when I refer to myself as this girl. He pretty much always calls me girl or this girl.

Where does it come from?

As far as I can see, third person speak in this context comes from the Gorean Lifestyle. Within this culture, the Master has total control over the slave, who in turn has given herself (and it is usually a her) to be owned property. An object to be used as the Master sees fit. The slave girl has no rights, not even to her own name. At the same time the Master cherishes his slave and trains and nurtures her natural femaleness, so she emerges into her true slave.

There is nothing Gorean about our relationship or lifestyle. But Master’s desires for a slave he can own and possess appear rooted in these ideals. At the beginning of the relationship, giving up my given name when with him did help me to let go of external constraints to submission.

How speaking in the third person influenced the development of our relationship

On returning from a short break away together when for several days I had referred to myself as this girl, I wrote.

The difference between Julie, the career woman, mother, daughter and estranged wife and joolz the submissive was greater than it has ever been. Ever!

31st March 2015.

I had learned to let go. To trust another person to take full control of me. One by one he took decision making from me and somehow peeled away the layers I had built up over the years. It is strange to look back now on the person I was, the one who always had to be in charge and control. Referring to him as Sir and myself as this girl was a large part of that process. Because every time you open your mouth to say something, you have to consider your words very carefully. Every time you do something you think about whether you are doing something that is for his pleasure. That was the start of my journey to becoming his slave.

This girl now

She still exists, though it is not overtly evident. Not all of the time anyway. Most days I do consider my slave self. Think of this girl and reflect. I tend to hold my collar when doing it. We don’t have rituals or rules as such. Everything is embedded. I generally know how to behave and what he expects of me. In my head I often think of myself not as Julie but this girl.

To him, that is exactly who I am. He only calls me by my given name when referring to me to others.

But the third person speech is only heard in the bedroom or during play. It naturally flows from my tongue during those times. At the same time it invigorates him and shows him where the power lies in our dynamic.