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.

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.

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.

The reward

I’ve been looking for some inspiration to write some more erotica and here it is. This beautiful photo of Marie Rebelle for this week’s Masturbation Monday. This is the first time I’ve written from the point of view of a man. So I’ll be interested in comments. Based as always on my own experiences, though not a single event. I’ve also taken the opportunity to use some Big Sexy Words.

Photo: Marie Rebelle, Rebel’s Notes

I watched from the doorway as she positioned herself, on the bed. Kneeling, legs apart, two thirds of the way down, arms outstretched in front, she leaned forward until her back formed a smooth straight line. Now in a state of repose, body relaxed and still. The blue panties, formed a perfect frame, separating her arse cheeks and the gab between. Her beautiful, smooth, tanned skin was lambent, almost inviting my caress. Her pink, shaved cunt seemed to be calling me to touch it. My cock indurated in response. I heard someone take a sharp intake of breath, only to realise that someone was me.

When I see Jess in this position, waiting for me as I’ve instructed it takes me back to those early days of our D/s relationship when we were exploring roles. The surge of power I feel when she takes that submissive pose is like an electric shock. It galvanises me and excites me, not only physically but mentally too. Such was the case today.

I stepped into the room and standing at the end of the bed leaned forward. ‘ready pet’? I asked. She didn’t speak, but a slight nod of her head provided affirmation. My fingers stroked the lace of her panties and traced a line around her cheeks. Leaning in further I placed a series of light kisses over her cool bottom. My fingers moved down to feel the top of her sexy fishnet stockings, then back to trace a line along her panties. This time the gasp came from the top of the bed.

A smile spread over my lips, and I began to nibble her flesh, taking small areas gently between my teeth. Next I placed my hands on her back and gentley massaged above the panty line. ‘are you wet, pet’? I asked as I slid a finger under the blue silk and ran it down between her legs. Her cunt was slick to the touch and clitoris already standing proud.

My cock strained against my boxers and a little pre-come emerged from the tip, making them damp. I wanted to take my pet, to penetrate her highly fuckable cunt, maybe her arse. But first there was the small matter of her reward. The flogging and caning I’d promised her. After all she had been such a good pet this week. Because in this house, impact play is a reward not a punishment.

So, standing upright I turned and reached for the first of the implements I’d laid out and picked out a soft flogger. Then, starting at the top of her spine I ran it slowly down her back before taking aim at her perfectly formed arse. “Thank you Sir” Came her immediate response. This was going to be a fun and fulfilling afternoon. At that point I wasn’t sure whose behaviour was being rewarded.

Big Sexy Words used:

  • Lambent – glowing, gleaming or flickering with soft radiance,
  • Galvanise – to shock or excite into action
  • Indurate – to harden
  • Repose – a state of calm relaxation or contemplation

Dominant

It wasn’t until I started to read about Dominance and submission that I realised I needed a dominant. And until I had been dominated in the bedroom I truly know that I am submissive. But I did and I am.

Back in 2012 I tackled the 30 days of submission meme. Day 26 asked what I was looking for in a dominant partner. I wrote this:

 i wanted my dominant to be well dominant. i wanted him to tell, not ask and essentially that is what i got. i wanted him to help me to push the boundaries and that is what i got. 

i wanted more sex, i wanted to try sex in ways i had never tried before, i wanted to submit. i wanted to dress for him, to parade myself for him, i wanted the humiliation and the excitement. i didn’t know i wanted to be restrained, to be spanked, clamped. But i do.

After my first D/s relationship ended, I knew I wanted another dominant partner. But experience told me that I needed someone who took D/s more seriously. Someone who would expect more from me, the submissive than I had previously experienced. That is exactly what I got.

In October 2014 I revisited the question in relation to my new relationship with Master:

Generally I feel His control all of the time. When we are together of course – He makes the decisions, though offers me choices. I don’t even always choose my own food when we eat out, let alone where we go. When I am on my own, I consider what He might think of my choices around the time I make them. Sometimes I consult with Him and He ‘advises’. Here though, I don’t feel it so easily.

What do I need from my Dominant now?

The main difference between then and now is clarity. We both know what our roles are and who is in charge. There is never a day now that I don’t feel his dominance, or for that matter my submission. Living together brought that clarity, but did having a 5 year relationship behind us. We have had great times together, but tough ones too. By giving up my house to live with Master and by leaving work my dependency on him increased. I never thought I would admit this, but I love the feeling of the power he has over me. I like that I am dependent on him in so many ways.

It is truly weird to write these words, since I struggled for so long to be the mistress of my own destiny. To have control over everything around me. I was quite the control freak.

But don’t imagine I am some weak and feeble individual. Indeed those who read my blog regularly know that already. But I don’t need to be in charge and don’t need to make all the decisions any more.

I am not completely compliant, far from it. I am frequently described as bratty. Usually I am pushing the boundaries, checking how far I can go. Of course there are times when I need to take care of him too and temporarily take over. When he is ill or a little drunk, for example. But in the main Master has the last word and I know that, he calls the shots. Usually he asks my opinion, but if he doesn’t then it is generally time to just get on with it.

I have chosen to live with a dominant man and by doing so I have discovered the true extent of my submission.

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

In The Mood

It is a while since I followed one of the sccwriting prompts. They can be found here.

Submission and sex

There is no doubt in my mind, or indeed Master’s that my submission and sexuality go hand in hand. I am at my most submissive when we are having sex. This is, I think, because when we are having sex I am able to let go of everything else in my mind and just be. I can live in the moment, and when I do that my submission comes to the fore. At the same time, Master’s dominance is most pronounced when he is aroused. That is not to say that our M/s relationship is confined to the bedroom, or indeed playroom. Since that is the other place when my submission is in profound evidence. There are undercurrents all of the time, but they are subtle and not overt. 

Tasks when in the mood for sex

Tasks and rules come more easily to me when I am in the mood for sex, that is definitely true. Calling him Master and myself this girl come automatically and I feel I am pretty much under his spell. During sex and play, I could easily comply with any thing asked of me. As a slave, I have no specific limits, I implicitly trust him to keep me safe and I willingly submit to him. 

Interestingly, since we have been living together, I have begun to regain the ability to relax and allow him to take control much more of the time. In the past I always had to retain responsibility for a large proportion of my life. Recently the need for this has receded and it is now only things to do with my family that I retain control. I see that in the future, my submission will grow and develop and become more evident outside of the bedroom.

Not feeling it

There are plenty of times when one or other of us doesn’t feel the M/s side of our lives. Sometimes that happens at the same time. Since our relationship is strong, I don’t see this as a problem. We are not robots, we are living human beings with feelings and needs. Together we can always work through them.

The rediscovery of my submission

Master reminded me on Friday night that we have hardly used my birthday present from last year.  For various reasons I have ridden this beautiful toy only once or twice. It’s purchase dates back to my experiences at the Secret Dungeon a few months before for his birthday. I could never have imagined just how much fun you could have fucking a machine. While the one at the secret dungeon was a sybian, more sophisticated, not to mention automated, this one relies on the user to do the work.

The fucking machine

Back to Friday night. I hadn’t realised quite how turned on I was just discussing the fact that we hadn’t used this fucking machine for several months. But by the time I had put the dildo in place, applied the condom and slid onboard I was pretty aroused. The dildo slid easily in and out of my  wet cunt as I moved backwards and forwards. As Master stood over me, playing with my nipples, sucking me and pinching I knew an orgasm wasn’t far away. 

He stroked my clit and counted down and I came to his demand. Sliding a finger into may arse, he demanded another and more. “Whose slut are you?” 

“This girl is Master’s slut”

The magic words came easily to my mouth. After months of me and I suddenly it was about ‘this girl’ about ‘His pleasing bitch’, ‘slave’. He became Lord and Master, the words falling from easily my tongue During sex I never have problems remembering who I am, of saying what is expected, but somehow this was different. It was as if for months ‘this girl’ had been sitting outside of my body, watching as I went about my crazy life. All at once she crashed into Julie and a submissive was awoken. All of a sudden I was telling Master that more control was needed, that I was proud to be his slave and wanted more of this. More sex, more orgasms, more time on the sex machine. But also rules. More, much more time remembering I am a slave. His slave.

This girl going forward

Today, sober (we had drunk quite a bit of wine) but also not high on the endorphins of recent orgasms I have had time to reflect. After 4 years as Master’s slave it feels as if I am starting from scratch. Learning again what it means to be his property, not just in bed or on a fucking machine, but in everything. 

The machine seems a good leveller. I defy anyone to strip naked, sit on the dildo and begin to rock while their Dominant watches and not feel the need to concentrate. I remember looking up at him as he stood naked in front of me, stroking his cock. I remember him asking me over and over again to repeat who I am, who he is. I remember the feeling of submission sweeping over me and I remember asking for the magic wand. For a different kind of orgasm. 

Life is not all about sex and fucking machines. It isn’t all about Dominance and submission but in this relationship those things are important. Very likely increasingly so. For us, this toy may enable us to get back to being the people we need to be and on a daily basis. Please.

Blogging A-Z 2018: H

This is the third year that I have participated in Blogging A-Z. This year i am going to try to make my topics a little more mainstream. They will, however clearly link to kink and may on occasion be NSFW.

H is for His

He cals her girl. This girl; His girl
He is her Master, her Lord and she His slave
She is His slut, His cum puppy. He controls her orgasms, they belong to Him; His.

He is her owner and she His property
People may find this difficult to understand but for her this is fact. She is His to love, to hold and to control.

Her body is pierced for His pleasure; nipples and clitoris. Her pleasure is His to have, to hold and to control.
She wears a collar, His collar. This is a sign of her slavery of His ownership, that she is His property.

She is His Bitch, Master’s Pleasing Bitch