Today we finally leave for our long holiday. We will be spending about 6 weeks travelling through and staying in France. There will be a short trip back to the UK for my mum’s 80th birthday and then a final couple of weeks during which we will drive up through Spain to take the ferry home.
I have never been away from home for such a long time before. The necessary preparations are part of the reason that I haven’t written anything for over a week. Our dynamic and sex life has taken something of a back seat. But also I have been working and that has meant I’ve had to utilise my brain (and computer) for other things. Gone are the days when I could work all day and then blog in the evening, I’ve just. been too tired.
There is still the work report to write up and I will be taking some time out next week to do that. But at least I will have pleasant surroundings to observe as I do. I’m planning to write about our travels. Also I plan to catch up with blog posts.
Diet and fitness
For once I don’t intend to drop the diet plan while away. After all 6 weeks is a long time and I am on a mission. I have now lost 5lb and and going to aim for another 7 off over the coming weeks. We will certainly be exercising plenty, so it is really what I put in my mouth that is the issue. I’m going to try to restrict the amount of bread, croissants, cheese and wine that I consume. But we’ll have to see how good my will power is.
I’m excited to be visiting lots of new cities along our journey. We also have a week’s holiday on the canal du midi. During that week we won’t have wifi and maybe that is a good thing.
No doubt there will be photo opportunities – sexy, kinky and of the scenery. I’ll be posting some here and also keeping in touch on Twitter.
Our relationship dynamic, Master / slave can be described as a total power exchange. I, the submissive person have given control for much of my life to my Dominant partner. This has been a gradual process over a period of almost 5 years. While working and living in my own house I always retained at least some responsibility for my needs. While there has been no visible change since I moved in with Master I sense a growth in his power over me, and my submission too.
For many people practicing BDSM is a part time pursuit, something that takes place in the bedroom, a club or dungeon. Where each takes a role, for the duration of that session. There may be rope, or impact play, one might take a dominate role and the other the bottom or submissive. Even perhaps, roles are switched depending on mood and partner. In the early days, we intended our relationship to be more about play. But it soon became clear that we wanted and needed something more. Once he had asked me to be his slave and we had begun to negotiate what that might mean, there was no looking back.
Over the past couple of weeks as the old year came to an end and this new one has started I have been reflecting on our relationship. This has partly come about through writing my end of year blog posts. But also because I have been doing some thinking and reading. Master also bought me a new collar, and just yesterday a ring arrived for my regular one. This will enable him to be able to use a lead more when we are playing.
Thoughts on my submission
Living here with Master has enabled me to give more control of my life to him. Before, I always felt I must retain control financially and of family situations. There was also work, which of course came with responsibilities. Although I am still making decisions about what I want to do, I am doing less telling and more asking about them. I have my own money and I can and do spend it. But we are living in his house and there is more dependence on my part. While this may have scared the life out of me in the past, it no longer does. Indeed it fills me with pleasure.
My illness has shown me that it is ok to rely on another for support and yes, decision making. But the funny thing is, I don’t feel the need to take the control I have given up back from him. Indeed, I can see myself giving up more and more. This is strange, since I didn’t even realise I had more to give.
For a long time I have resisted some of the signs of submission Master asked for. Ones related to dress (wearing underwear), my hair length and getting a tattoo, spring to mind, but there are others. It feels though that this year I should take the plunge and open myself up to becoming the slave I know he desires.
Thoughts on his dominance
Power is the major driver for Master. When we play, it is the very fact that my body reacts in the way it does, to his body and the toys he uses, that drives him. During sex, he loves that he can control me and my orgasms. He loves that he can call me names such as bitch and it excites me. Me being his property is something that we both acknowledge and that enables his dominance to shine though. In those moments I am slave, MPB, this girl.
When I gave myself to him totally I also gave my limits. We had agreed what they were and as we moved along the power exchange continuum I realised that he could and should own them. I can still call red (though I haven’t) and he will stop. My consent has been given for Master to make the decisions in the bedroom, playroom and in life. But importantly this is reaffirmed regularly. He does so in such a way that I must state that my limits belong to him and uttering those words make him feel more dominant. Nothing makes me happier.
I know this isn’t a relationship for everyone. I didn’t even know it was for me and indeed I do question it myself from time to time. But 2019 definitely feels like the year for an exploration into how far this dynamic might take us.
This year, more than most I can remember has been a time of immense highs and unbelievable lows. It has also been one of great change. For so long I talked about making those changes and there were many times that I thought they would never happen. This blogging year has also been one of highs and lows, a year where my writing has developed and grown but also one when I almost lost my blog. There is so much to write about this year and so many people to thank and mention so here goes.
The year started in a bit of a whirlwind as I supervised the packing and moving for my mum. There was over 30 years worth of stuff in her large 3 bedroom house. The concept of downsizing was completely alien to her and consequently this was a stressful time for me and my brothers. She tended to sit watching it happen, then complain when we threw things out she later said she wanted. On moving day, she took more furniture than it was physically possible to put into her bungalow. So more pain followed.
In the midst of all of that, it was difficult to find time to blog or be particularly sexy. As is often the case the memes (Wicked Wednesday, Sinful Sunday, Kink of the week and SoSS kept me going). This year I have learned that writing about something is better than not writing at all. This month too, I joined the Smut Marathon (more of that later).
This post pretty much highlights that sex and kink was a bit lacking in our lives at the beginning of the year. Not entirely surprising given the whirlwind of January. At that time we were also planning for me to move in with him and had begun to get the house ready. Once again meme’s kept the blog going including TMI Tuesday, Food for Thought Friday and Art Twist. Indie and I have discussed bringing the latter back to life and maybe we will do that in 2019. I only recently realised that Kilted Wookie runs F4TF and it took a while to realise also that we had all week to write a post based on the prompt. Sometimes I am pretty slow on the uptake!
At the end of the month, while away for a weekend I managed to delete my blog! I still shudder when I think about how it happened and the work required to put it back together. Thankfully Dom Signs was there to help, I am so grateful to him. The full horror story is here.
This photo was taken hours before my blog went down and so didn’t appear until 3 March. It brings back the better memories of that weekend. In this post I write some more about the blog, but also for the first time about participating in the smut marathon as well as sex and coffee (all important things).
Our sex and kink life was at last on the up. In this Masturbation Monday post I describe some impulsive kinky sex and later in the month our first public play event. I haven’t contributed to Masturbation Monday as much as I would have liked to this year. Mainly because my sex blogging libido has been a little off kilter. But I did have the pleasure of meeting Kayla Lords and her husband John Brownstone at Eroticon. I followed John’s blog first and clearly remember the run up to Kayla moving to be with him which was so exciting. Together they have become quite a force to be reckoned with in the blogging (and podcasting) community.
Eroticon was a wonderful weekend of fun and laughter, plus some amazing sessions at the conference. Apart from Kayla and John we met so many other bloggers and writers that were previously words and pictures on a screen. Marie and Master T, May More, Posy, Eye, Cousin Pons to name but a few. I wrote about it here.
Once again I joined in with the Blogging A-Z challenge. Although there are 31 posts for April, which is getting on for a record I still had to combine some of the A-Z daily posts. Keeping with a mainly kink theme, the posts can be found here.
For the Wicked Wednesday post on Driving Lessons, I wrote about my rather unpleasant driving instructor. I guess this is my Me too incident; thankfully mild, though as you could tell it has stayed with me.
In April we travelled to Seville for the Feria celebrations and had a wonderful week of rest and recuperation. Seville is one of those places that we have pretty much seen and done but return to. The relaxed lifestyle, long lunches, dinners in several parts suits us.
By May, preparations for my move were in full swing. Our weekends were filled with decluttering, house maintenance and beginning to pack. However we did manage to find time for some fun and games. It had been a while since Master bought his girl a tail, but I hadn’t really had the chance to wear it. Until now.
The Smut Marathon moved onto round 5 and to my surprise I was still in the competition. As I mention in my post about round 4, my editing skills were coming under pressure. I tended to write pieces that were much longer than needed, sometimes 4 times as long. Since being out of the competition I have started to try to write stories that are already short and so need less editing. The Smut Marathon was a wonderful competition and I am grateful to Rebel for all her hard work in making it the success it was and will be again.
Hy from A Dissolute Life Means challenged herself and others to Post Every Damn Day in June. I got off to a good start even though at the time I was on holiday in Slovenia. Much of the country is under developed, with beautiful lakes, hills and mountains to explore. A great opportunity for some natural photo opportunities. While away I participated for the first time in Hyacinth’s regular meme: Boobday. I look at my contribution with some sadness as this is the boob I no longer have. The cancer was already growing inside me, though I didn’t know it. I do hope to participate again soon, but more of that in the post I am going to write about the coming year.
There was one final trip away (for a weekend) before the end of June, providing a great Sinful Sunday opportunity. After that, life was crazy as we prepared for my move.
The weather was wonderfully hot. A proper English heatwave. Probably not what you need when you are spending much of your life packing boxes. On one of the last weekends spent before the move, we frolicked in the garden. Not only did I run around naked but we also had anal sex out there. My anxiety about the neighbours seeing anything dissipated under the influence of a bottle or two of wine.
The rest of July is a mad blur. I didn’t post anything of substance until 26th. After the antics in the garden I developed a urinary infection (perhaps the two are linked) and needed antibiotics. Then as soon as I was recovered I moved house. I wrote about it all here. To be honest, I was pretty glad to see the back of July.
August was about finishing up at work. Luckily, with many people away on holiday the roads and railways were quiet, though London was as usual busy. There were few meetings so I was able to declutter my work environment in a reasonably calm way. I had a wonderful send off from colleagues and left on 31st. I also started to reorganise my blog a little, ending one journey page and starting another.
As we gradually settled into our life together we began to rekindle our kinky sides and also had some fun.
All through August I was waiting for the inevitable. I revealed at my mammogram early in the month that I had found a lump in my breast and knew I would be recalled. The first date I was given was for 31st August, but as this was my final day at work I asked for a later appointment. So on 11th September Master and I spent the entire afternoon at a one stop breast clinic. We came away already knowing that cancer was suspected, but had to wait a week for confirmation. The following day I travelled to Cyprus with my mum with a massive plaster on my boob. Over the coming days a huge bruise formed.
Cyprus was beautiful though. Hot sunny days and warm evenings. Even my mum and my attempts to hide my bruising didn’t spoil it. But I really did miss Master and wrote about my longing for him here.
On my return I received the news that we had been both expecting and dreading. I had breast cancer.
I think we saw the inside of more hospital wards and departments than I experienced in the first 3 months of my nursing career. Master was beside me the whole way and has been my rock and guiding light ever since the first appointment. Our hopes of a lumpectomy were dashed as the tumour was too large. So on 15th I had a mastectomy.
Many blog and twitter friends and followers have congratulated me on my positivity in coping with the surgery and aftermath. While I wanted to catalogue my journey and will continue to do so, I didn’t seek to make it seem easy. The operation was straightforward, but the recovery painful and frustration. I wasn’t the best patient, I don’t think nurses usually are. But I was determined not to succumb to self pity and so I guess that is why it came across that way. I started a series of regular posts about my recovery which will continue for as long as necessary.
I felt ready on 11th November to give Sinful Sunday followers a glimpse of my new body. I always knew that I was part of a body positive group of people but have been overwhelmed by the support. None more so than from Molly and that is why I chose Sinful Sunday for this post. Being able to go to the munch that Molly and Signs run and speak openly to others including Sub Bee has really helped. I am looking forward to getting together with Molly in the new year so she can photograph me lots more.
Thank you to everyone who has commented on here, sent me emails and messages on twitter. I know too that Master has found the support from this community to be a really positive thing.
A month of end of year lists and reviews, and I find myself on so many. After everything that has happened this year, I am overwhelmed. Looking back over my blog, I can see that it has been a good year for my writing.
Thank you to those who nominated me for the Kinkly and Chaturbate top sex blog lists. Thank you to May More for the wonderful messages of support and for including me on her Top of the Blogs list. To Floss, who named me as one of her top 20 Lovelies. To Kilted Wookie for putting me on the Naughty List, to Master Venture for including me on his list of people worth following and to Marie Rebelle for including me on her Top 20 of ’18. I am incredibly honoured to have been recognised by so many of the wonderful people I admire in this community.
Thank you to everyone who has read my blog this year and to those who have commented and supported me. Here’s to 2019 – more of that to come.
The new me is really the old me. I have lost just a small part of my body, not an arm or a leg. In terms of body mass or weight it is nothing. But when it comes to the impact of the removal of a breast it feels enormous. Breasts are not sex organs as such, but for a woman they are important elements in the act of sex. My nipples were always very sensitive and I loved to have my breasts touched. To experience that connection to your cunt, the enlarging of your clit and a flow of moisture from within is wonderful. Of course, I still have one nipple and one breast. The connection is still there and when he nibbles or sucks my nipple the reaction is the same.
Learning to love the remains of my breast
I want him to touch the area around my scar now it is healed. I know Master found it daunting, he was frightened he would hurt me. What’s more it took longer to heal than we expected. Fluid found its way out from the suture line and a dressing was required, right up until yesterday. He strokes me gently, running his fingers across and it feels pleasant.
There seems to be no sexual connection from that area and my cunt now. The breast tissue has been removed, but there is feeling. Along most of the scar line now, the sensation is normal. But under my arm the flesh feels as if it belongs to someone else. What’s more, there seems to be more of it than there was. The nurse told me that it’s because the breast previously held it in place. I’m not sure it can be toned through exercise or lost through dieting. Neither of those ever work on the exact areas you want them to.
Over the weekend I developed some weird and not pleasant pains in my right inner arm. It feels like the numbness is subsiding and in its place over sensitive nerves. They are quite the worst pains I have had over the past 5 weeks. But they are short lived, momentary even and happen at the oddest moments. When I stretch my arm our, when I lean forwards, when I try to lie on my right side. Not every time I do those things but often. This is making me a little irritable right now.
Diet, exercise and fitness
There are a host of exercises that I am meant to be doing to make sure my arms are mobile. As I lift them up to my head and above, there is a tightness on the right side, a pulling. The sudden jolting pain is new, but localised and definitely not muscular. I have a hunch I need to increase, not reduce the exercises and so I am trying that. I want to be able to go swimming, I think that would help. But since my scar is still a little vulnerable, I won’t do that yet. So I will try exercising my arm in the bath.
Over the past weekend we stepped up exercise levels in general. The weather was glorious; beautiful crisp sunny if cold days and no rain. We walked miles around London and only took public transport a few times. Walking is great for me and something I need to do daily, a challenge in winter but something that can be done.
Our other source of exercise has been sex and lots of it. That he feels horny most mornings and wants to have sex with me is making me feel good about myself. My mood is pretty good and I feel positive. He tells me how much he wants and needs me and has me tell him how much I want and need him. That affirmation is an important element of our M/s relationship and also part of this healing process for us both.
Finally to diet. I am making the changes previously mentioned, though sticking to them is proving challenging. Mainly because in trying to eliminate one thing you can easily find yourself eating something else almost as bad. Plus over the weekend I ate more cheese than I maybe should have. However I am on the right track as I have lost 3lb over the past 2 weeks. A long way to go to get to a healthy weight but progress none the less.
Next week I see the oncologist and then we can start to plan. The radiotherapy of course, but Christmas and perhaps a trip to some warm weather in the new year.
Yesterday, we had sex. Spur of the moment, lustful afternoon sex.
In the morning we woke in a large, but slightly chilly hotel room. Breakfast was served till 10, so even though we were both randy as hell, we deferred. We showered together, he lathered my body with soap and caressed my breasts. He held me and kissed me and bent forward to take my right nipple in his mouth.
I am feeling mighty odd about my right breast. The bruise from the biopsy has faded, but is just visible. The hardness inside, the cancer, remains for the moment. I look at my breasts in the mirror and think that the right one has changed shape. Perhaps, maybe. I am scared that after the operation I won’t feel like me any more. worse that he won’t want this new me. These are stupid and crazy thoughts, but they are real.
He loves my breasts
He calls them jugs, they belong to him, along with the rest of me and he loves them. Over 4 years ago, while our relationship was still new, I had my nipples pierced, for him. Also though for me, and we both love those piercings. Yesterday he took some photos, in the hotel room. He said what I was thinking, that we need to take photos now, just in case. In case I need a mastectomy and it doesn’t look the same. We have lots of photos of my breasts, many of them are on this blog, but knowing what is about to happen means we want more.
After breakfast we set off to a nearby city and wandered around the cathedral. As I wandered around, looking at the beautiful architecture, the stained glass, the tombs of clerics from centuries ago. I was struck by the peace of the place and could see how people might turn to the church and religion in times of need. I don’t have that feeling myself, but found the environment some how reassuring. A place where the fog can clear and the future, whatever it brings be faced.
When we got home we had sex
Not straight away. He went off into his office to attend to some admin and sort through photos. I sat reading blogs, catching up on Twitter and responding to comments on here. Suddenly, he appeared in front of me. He asked what I was doing and without really waiting for an answer he unzipped his trousers. Moments later I had his cock in his mouth, it tasted very good. Slightly salty, warm and hard. My cunt throbbed a little. His cock filled my mouth.
We went upstairs and stripped off. On the bed, he ran his fingers over my slick vulva and proclaimed that I was turned on too. Damn right I was. He pushed slowly but surely inside and my body welcomed him. I needed this, wanted to feel him, to know that he wanted me. He moved in and out with ease, my body opening up like magic. My head cleared as it had in the church and I concentrated on him, his cock and his fingers.
This wasn’t an epic sex session. A couple of orgasms for me, a change of position and he was coming inside me. But it was pure in the moment, carnal desire. I needed to know he still fancied me and he does. And what is more, I fancy him too and I don’t think that will change. I just need to remember that when things get tough.
What is your attitude to rules? Do you follow them completely? Do you bend them? Are they there to be broken?
I struggle with the whole concept of rules. On one hand we need laws to ensure people understand what is considered right and wrong. That there are punishments for committing murder, theft, rape etc. But the problem is people love to make rules and even laws for their own sake. Often these seem to be for the purpose of exercising power over others. Laws relating to sex seem to be for this very purpose. I find it abhorrent that for so long it was illegal for people of the same sex to express their love for each other, have relationships and enjoy sex. Also that women couldn’t terminate unwanted pregnancies. For so many people in the world these things are still illegal and even here where they are not, stigma and taboo remain.
Do you have any self-imposed rules that you live your life by? Do you ever break these?
My personal rules relate to the things I feel are morally right. They relate to respecting others, to being kind and considerate. But also I try not to break some of the more obvious rules of society and laws of the land. I try to treat others as I would want to be treated. I try to stick to the speed limit and to do what I can to help my mum and others that need me. Sometimes though things don’t go so well. I can be intolerant of others, especially those who seem to want to waste time, people that are not prepared, and those who are down right rude. There are times when I can be short tempered and impatient and then I am inclined to forget the rules.
Within your relationship, are there rules you abide by? Who sets these? Have you ever broken them and, if so, was it deliberate? What are the consequences of rule breaking in this context?
As a consensual slave in a M/s relationship there are rules. We have tried ones that were agreed and written down, but neither of us were very good at them. For me, us living apart meant that some of them were tricky to stick to all of the time and for him, informing them was too much trouble.
So really our rules are about respect and remembering who has the last word. They are about honesty, about telling him everything and not bottling things up. For us, rules are about me allowing him to take control and being happy when he does. The main rule is that his decision is final. Probably for us that is enough.
So many things that I wanted to do have become reality. The fact that Master and I are living together, that we have the time to do the things we want together is wonderful. Last weekend we attended our third CMnf – Clothed Male, naked female – event. This time I was so relaxed about everything that I had no hesitation in getting stripped off straight away. I wore nothing all afternoon other than a lovely chain harness that we bought at BBB a few weeks ago. I love the way it frames my breasts – there will definitely need to be a photo on the blog soon.
But this week I have had cause to reflect on the concept of waiting to do things ‘some day’s versus getting on and doing them now. For two years Master and I spent time working on my house and garden. I know this because over the past couple of months numerous posts have reappeared on Facebook. Repairing the shed, painting fences, decluttering, painting walls. The same with women, for a long time I knew I had had enough but that moving house and giving up work would have to happen around the same time.
Those things have now happened and our time is our own. Now we can plan for new dreams, a new some day. Well hopefully yes. But as I lay on a doctor’s couch on Tuesday having a lump in my breast biopsied, I did consider that perhaps we should now just do what we want when we want to. My dream of having more time to myself didn’t involve breast cancer treatment, and maybe it wont come to that. I will know next week.
I now wonder about the 2 years of procrastination, of doing things right for my ex. I wonder if I should have been harder faced and concentrated more on what we needed for us. There is no turning back, butmaybe a realisation that thinking you’ll do things some day is the wrong approach. If you can, do it now.
I had planned to write something yesterday to accompany my Sinful Sunday post. But having arrived home late on Saturday and then needing to leave for CMnf soon after midday, there wasn’t time.
The trip to France was arranged to make some running repairs on the apartment. Owning property abroad seems glamorous, when in reality it can be expensive and stressful. This year the lady who was meeting guests and cleaning suddenly sent notice and so I was forced to cancel all my airbnb bookings. This has meant that the place has been empty for most of the summer. Now I’m no longer working, I need to consider whether to rent in the future or keep it for family, friends and us.
Summer in the south of France this year has been glorious and still is. By Monday lunchtime we had pretty much done what we wanted to do and over lunch hatched a plan to stay longer. A friend was arriving Sunday, so we just needed to lead before then (he already had the key).
Once the new flights had been booked and the car hire extended we settled into a relaxed routine and did very little.
Morning sex is our thing. Master tends to be horny when he wakes and I can be easily persuaded. So after sleeping late and just luxuriating in not needing to get up, we had sex most mornings. On the surface this might seem quite vanilla in nature, often missionary. But there are always elements of Dominance and submission as well as restraint, nipple pinching, forced orgasms and the like. We didn’t have toys with us and so used our hands and mouths to please and excite.
When finally we emerged from bed and showered we then spent time sitting out on the balcony over coffee and then lunch. Strolling out to the shop if necessary and then returning to our nest for the afternoon. I would stretch out on my sun bed and maybe take a swim. This all may seem a little dull, but it really wasn’t. It was the end product of 3 months and more of stress, packing, unpacking and general craziness. It was what we both needed.
Most evenings we ate out. Strolling around the harbour area, or into the local village for dinner. It was lovely to be able to eat al fresco and to watch others either dining too or wandering around the area. It was good to be uninterrupted by normal everyday life but to interact when we needed and wanted to.
The only real downside to the warm evenings was that we were feasted on by the local mosquitos (me more than him). We should have been better at spraying ourselves with repellant I know. But the bites will heal and fade, the memories of our lazy days and warm evenings will remain.
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.
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.