New realities

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. 

Breaking the rules

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.

Some day

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.

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

Lazy days and warm evenings

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.

Lazy days

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.

Warm evenings

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.

Journey’s end?

This journey

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

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

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

Being his Slave

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

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

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

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

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

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

His voice (and other things)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

January – So far so good

January can be a horrible month. Most of winter lies ahead of us, the days are dull, dark and dreary. The same can be said about people’s moods. Overindulgence and over spending during the festive period makes people miserable. The best of the sales are quickly over and anyway, if you spent too much money at Christmas you tend not to have the funds or the will for more shopping. For me this year though, as I write on 19th January, things are not too bad. So far so good!

I made a number of resolutions at the start of the month and in the main am still sticking with them. Plus, my mum’s move has actually, really taken place. She is now 2 hours away from me and so far, that space feels mighty good!

The move

Took place a week ago. I don’t think I have worked as hard for a very long time as I did in the days leading up to moving day. My younger brother proved as useful as I might have expected, resulting in me cramming my car with things he failed to have loaded on the removal van. I ended up taking a microwave and kitchen bin, amongst other things. I discovered that my mum never throws anything away unless it is done when her back is turned. Still a week on she seems to be settling in and my older sibling is already stepping up to the mark. My visits will now be every 2-3 weeks rather than every Friday, which means more time to myself and for us.

Dry January

Of the 18 whole days that have passed this year, I have had alcohol on 3 of them. These are New Year’s Day, 12th and 13th January. This really is a big achievement for me. I really am borderline in the alcoholism stakes, I fear. At the end of moving day I enjoyed a glass of wine with my mum and then another 3 or 4. I really do struggle to stop once I start. The next day however, when out with Master for dinner, I had one glass. He has my back on this one, though isn’t giving up with me. I do plan some wine tonight, but will be back on it tomorrow or Sunday. Semi-dry January will need to extend into February and March. Control and planning will be the name of the game. This really has to become my life as I see the warning signs. The added benefit, and one of the reasons I am doing this, is that I have lost some weight. 5lb so far this month.

Blogging

So far I am remaining true to my plans and writing reasonably often and with a little more thought and application. I plan to try to participate in Wicked Wednesday each week, along with Sinful Sunday. Plus another post or two each week. I am not joining February Photofest this year, and instead am going to concentrate on my new 365 photo blog. Up to now, many of the images are ones I took over the past year or two. But increasingly this will change as I build up a new stock. I have bought myself WordPress for dummies and am teaching myself some basic web stuff. Hopefully I will be able to apply this to my blogs soon.

Planning for my move

So, mum has moved to her new house and now I need to get mine ready for the sale to my ex and his lady. Apparently she is getting hers valued next week to sell, so I am hopeful that by summer I could be on my way. Master has some plans for building work at his place, all part of our intentions for me moving in with him. I have been talking about this for so long, but am really focused on making it happen.

So far, this January doesn’t feel like the song by Pilot, I am not yet sick and tired and it isn’t hanging on me. Though roll on February for lighter mornings!

 

Back to blog

Having persevered throughout January and the first week of February I have abandoned the 365 questions. I think the idea is a great one, but these questions are really too dull. Maybe I should try to come up with a better set for next year, but if anyone sees me start with this same set next January 1st please, just shoot me (or the virtual version of it).

My excuse for starting the questions was laziness coupled with writers block. I had a desire to blog regularly but a distinct fact of creative ideas, useful recent experience or even the will to try to put pen to paper (or words to screen) in any meaningful way. So, the easy way out. Then I decided to join in with February Phtotofest and this meant that during this month I would need to produce two blog posts, which in itself is no problem. With the photo, there is often a story to be told, with the questions usually not.
Last year, I ran out of ideas for the February photofest but this year I definitely want to carry through and get to the end and I want as many of the photos to mean something to me as they can. I also need to get back to proper blogging, I need to write about what is happening in my life, about the things that are bothering me and about the things I want to do. I need to write about my relationship and about the things that continue to go well for us as well as some of the things that bother me. Like for instance the way that my menopausal symptoms are changing our sex life. Like the way my job feels like it is getting in the way of spending sufficient time together. Like the fact that I love my house but wish I could just walk away, the sale and everything done with. Like the ongoing stresses that my ex brings me.
But also I want to write about the great things we have coming up; Eroticon in just a few weeks and a chance to meet like minded people, great writers and bloggers who I hope will help inspire. Like the ‘Secret Dungeon Sleepover’ I have been invited to for Master’s birthday, like the CMNF event we would like to attend in the not too distant future. Like too the holiday we are planning for this summer and the break we are taking over Easter.
I want to get back into writing about me and about what makes me the person and am happy to be.
I want to get back to this blog and to moving this blog to the new domain I have bought but haven’t yet properly used. I will happily see February Photofest through to the end, but I am not posting answers to inane questions just so that I can fill the calendar with a daily blog post.

365 Questions – day 32

What is your favourite piece of art you own?


I don’t own a lot of art work. Call it lack of opportunity, money and generally time to think abut art in the home. but these I like…….

It’s not straight but I photographed it as it is. This is the little town in France where I have my apartment. I fully expect my ex to claim this when we divide our stuff since it was him who bought it and I know he likes it too. But I will just go out and buy something similar. 

This is a small part of my glasses and other nicknack cabinet. The cat also serves as a candle holder and was bought for me by a patient when I left my last job as a frontline nurse. The glasses behind are locally made and were a wedding present from a neighbour I had known my whole life when I married. The mug was from my ex husbands grandma (will also be claimed I expect) from the silver jubilee of 1935. The bottle behind a gin bottle from Amsterdam.

365 days – 30th January

My house is a home because……

It is the place I lived during my marriage and where I brought up my son. It is a place where I have been happy, really happy. True, there has been sadness here, but to be fair the happiness has outweighed the pain and the tears.

We moved to the house when my son was a baby, just 3 months old. He sat for the first time, he laughed and he cried. He walked his first steps, climbed his first stairs. We nurtured him and he grew to be a lovely little, then bigger boy.

When my ex betrayed me, I took refuge in this place. I retreated into a solitary life at times, just me and him. Later his father returned and we were happy after a while.

There have been birthdays, family events, barbecues, parties.

There have been arguments and there have been tears. Too many. The relationship with my ex falling apart, the challenges of living with a growing teenager struggling to find his way in the world.

More recently Master and I have enjoyed some great days and nights here. Kinky fun, kinky and straight sex. I have submitted, I have dressed up for him. I have cooked meals and we have enjoyed great wine with them. We have laughed together.

Sometimes when I sit here alone I can see and hear almost 26 years of my life in little bite size chunks. Happy and sad.

This house has been a home to us and is is still my home. It will remain so until I take my things and try to make another place my home. I suspect it will take a while.