Concepts of home have become more difficult for me to articulate over recent years. What does home really mean to me? Is home a place, a person, a state of mind? Unusually, I read the Food for Thought posts already posted before writing this. Now I’m not sure if I’m clearer or if the waters are more muddy. Let’s see.
We moved to the house I would consider my childhood home when I was around 5. I have a few memories of the first place, but they may just be from photos I’ve seen. Home was my parents and brothers. My grandparents and cousins visiting. It was family Christmas’ and my room.
As a teenager I got my dad to paint it purple. I had my own little portable cassette deck, my books and other special possessions. It’s the place I did my homework and wrote. Once I got a boyfriend it’s a place I took him, though my mum was forever calling me downstairs!
I got married from that home (though I had moved out 6 months before) and then my parents moved to a new house. I felt at home in their new place, but it wasn’t my home.
Hubby and I also owned two houses during the course of our marriage. Our first was special because I’d never lived anywhere that afforded real privacy. By that, I mean that parents and brothers could walk in at home and the home warden at my nurses accommodation. Here only we had a key, everyone else had to knock. That made it home. Then the fact we decorated and chose furniture and furnishings. Finally because it was just us. It was a place that we conceived our son and brought him home to. Later I discovered things hadn’t been as I imagined, because his infidelity started at around that time.
When my son was just 3 months old we moved. I wanted somewhere we could bring up a family, a bigger home and better neighbourhood. The new place was fine to begin with. We decorated, but often struggled to make it feel right (for me that is). However it was my son’s home and over time it became mine too. A place of sanctity, somewhere to hide when things were difficult.
At the end, when my ex had all but gone, it felt like the home it had never been. I spent days and nights there alone and became familiar with every nook and cranny. But when it came time to leave, I knew it was right.
My ex still lives there. I’ve been back and it feels no more like home than any other house in that street. That’s not because they have decorated and have new furniture. I’ve felt that way since I loaded my car with my remaining things and closed the door on that part of my life.
Looking back, I am still not sure that home was ever with my ex. But having my son there made it feel that it was at the time.
We live in Master’s house. To begin with it was very weird, but gradually it has become home. Partly because my possessions have found their place and I have made changes to how things are. Also because we have started to decorate and make plans about how things will be. But this is a home because we are here together. I have a feeling about the concept of home that I didn’t have before.
There is one other place I call home. It’s a small apartment in France that I own (well jointly own with the ex). But it is my bolt hole. It’s the place I went to escape the pain and sadness when my life seemed to be falling apart. I’ve laughed, cried, got drunk and had amazing sex there. It is the place I’d run to if things went tits up here with Master. But it is also the place we go to and gradually it has become something of home to him too. Our place, our home.
While reading this post by May yesterday it struck me that there was a time when I hated intimacy. The reasons for these feelings differ between us, experiences in childhood and young adulthood are important. Being cheated on so early in my marriage had a profound affect on me. Over time, I learned to bury the hurt and pain, to bury my feelings. I guess I came across as cold and unresponsive. He told me I was frigid, so I know that was the case.
Sex during my marriage
Was perfunctory and was often just sex. I’ve said before that he was a man who could complete foreplay and PIV sex in during a commercial break. But to be fair to him, I was often ok with that. I’d hang around in the bedroom for a while and bang out an orgasm. Or else wait till he was asleep and find my rabbit. I actually didn’t want him to be intimate with me, to stroke and touch.
It’s strange, because we didn’t have full sex for quite a time after we met. But there was a lot of intimacy – a lot of foreplay (without the sex), we always sat close together and touched and kissed a lot. And then gradually that didn’t happen any more, but the catalyst for that was his affair. Don’t get me wrong we had our moments, but I think alcohol played quite a part in getting me to relax my guard.
This was a pretty transactional relationship looking back. I was his bedroom submissive, I dressed up and got off on some humiliation and degradation. In return we had some very good sex and through that I discovered I was in no way frigid. The play and the sex were fairly unemotional. But there was a lot of intimacy before and after. My husband rarely cooked a meal and being presented with breakfast after an early start and long drive was amazing. Picnics in bed were also a fun and intimate thing. But also there was aftercare of the physical kind – stroking, kissing and just generally being.
But then it was time to leave and I often didn’t hear from him for days or even weeks. To begin with that hurt, but over time I accepted that it wasn’t a love affair and took from it what I needed.
The intimacy of us
This relationship, with Master gives me everything I didn’t realise I needed until I had it. I’ve written before about the importance of touch between us. The intimacy is just there. If my husband came up to me and put his hands on my waist, then grabbed a tit I’d swat him away. Because there was a motive. With Master, there could be motive, but in general he is touching me because he desires me and just wants to touch me.
The stroking and holding takes place before during and after sex. During play he is constantly seeking to check I am ok and to let me know that he desires me. He also wants to know that I am aroused by the things he is doing.
As mentioned in the post – The touch of our hands – he didn’t always enjoy being touched. Now though he actively seeks my hands on his body. We approach each other regularly and just kiss gently on the lips. We don’t always hold hands when out, but sometimes, often late at night we do and it feels just right.
In many ways I feel I’ve come full circle. That I didn’t actually know what I needed till I didn’t have it. Didn’t know what to expect or to ask for. But, you know what? It’s never to late to find out what you need and perhaps to get it.
Click below for the thoughts of others on the topic of intimacy
Click below to see who else is participating in January Jumpstart.
Over the past few years, at the end of December, I’ve looked back over my blog and created a review. The year has, on the whole been a good one, we’ve travelled to new places and done some fabulous things. This is my 235th post this year, up considerably on last year. I’ve discovered that writing about something is better than writing nothing. So it was only when I was away for the whole of July that I didn’t write at least twice a week. I’ll write more about stats when I post about my plans for 2020. But now, this is my year – 2019 in review.
The year didn’t start especially well for me, a hangover as it were from 2018. The unfinished business was radiotherapy for my breast cancer. The treatment itself wasn’t bad, but the cumulative effects – physical and emotional were. This post sums up the month. I haven’t written for the Sex Bloggers for Mental Health meme often and this is something I plan to rectify in 2020.
On 10th January I wrote thisFriday Flash post and although I haven’t written much fiction in 2019 I managed two in January. My goal in 2020 will be at least one piece of fiction per month.
Being mainly confined to home, I wrote 27 posts in January, which set me up pretty well for February photofest.
My 7th highest post / category of all time is my February Photofest one for 2019. I posted 36 times, so it obviously wasn’t all about the images. I began to show bits of my body, and especially noticeable are the radiotherapy burns visible on any photo showing my chest.
Tell me about, which is co-run by Missy and Sweetgirl, have led to some reflective and thought provoking posts in 2019. This one, about showing my own vulnerability, is no exception.
There were 19 posts in March, and two of my favourites are photos posted for Sinful Sunday.This one, Double Exposure was for the prompt week at the beginning of the month and Birthday Breakfast at the very end on Master’s birthday. Both were taken in hotel bedrooms and I am thankful that we have the opportunity to travel both here and abroad and to stay in some fabulous places. In these relaxed environments I have begun to feel able to share photos of my body again.
The other notable event was Eroticon, which I wrote about here. As the conference rolls around again soon, I am really excited to catch up with old friends and to meet new people.
Once again I joined in with the Blogging A-Z, this time using my blog history to examine how my journey has progressed. I found it a useful reflective tool which showed me how I have changed (or not) along the way. I posted 29 times, often combing other memes with the Blogging A-Z one. While I said afterwards that I wouldn’t participate again, I have an idea so I just might!
Favourite posts from this month were this one, of Master in the Swing of Relaxation and this one entitled Kinky. Both include images taken at STOXX which is sadly no longer available to rent.
Of the 22 blog posts for May, several are especially memorable. On 1st I wrote my Confessions of an unruly slave for The Erotic Journal Challenge. Brigit’s prompts are thought provoking and now they are monthly I’m better able to join in with them all. I think that particular post sums me up. I want to be the perfect slave, but often fall short.
Unmentionable has turned out to be particularly popular in terms of traffic. This is in no small way due to being placed in the top 3 posts for Elust #119. I would highly recommend submitting to Elust to help broaden your readership.
At the end of May we toured around Holland and Belgium for a week, during which time we were lucky enough to meet up with Marie Rebel and Master T. We enjoyed a lovely afternoon / evening together which I write about here. I’m looking forward to seeing both at Eroticon in March.
The following day we travelled to Amsterdam where we stayed in the Kinky Suite. My review is here.
Once again I joined Every Damn Day in June on Hy’s blog, and while I didn’t manage to post every day I did manage 29 posts. I participated in my first Lingerie is for everyone meme with this post. There’s new lingerie for 2020, so, I will be participating again soon.
We left for France at the beginning of July. Somehow I had run out of steam and was a bit out of love with writing and posting. So, there wee only 4 posts, one of which was Elust. Lazy days and hot nights sums up the month.
We were away for the majority of August too. But despite being on a boat with no Wifi for a week I still managed to write 12 blog posts. My favourite photo, posted for Sinful Sunday was this one – Topless. At last I was getting my mojo back!
On 29th I wrote about some issues I’ve been having with elusive orgasms. I’m pleased to say that the strategies we have been taking since seem to be helping.
This month we returned to CMnf after a break of a year and my mastectomy. I wrote here, about the wonderful reception I received. Sun kissed skin was a favourite photo, posted for Wicked Wednesday. How I love the feeling of the sun on my skin. Something to think about in the middle of winter!
The Smutathon took place at the end of September and while I wasn’t a participant, I wrote this post about abortion to link in with something that I consider a very important cause.
My Kissing Vignettes post for Food For Thought was in hindsight a way of edging myself back towards writing fiction. The post is based on some happy memories, but with a little artistic licence thrown in. The other of my 15 posts during October that I want to highlight is this one.
I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer last year during awareness month. My Breast Care Nurse warned me at the time to steer clear of the internet and I can understand why. This year, May More contacted me to ask if I was happy for her to write something to raise awareness, which of course I was. She inspired me to write the post above.
My Sinful Sunday post for November didn’t conform to the set prompt. But having the image available to use, I just had to post it. Molly and many others retweeted my post and then it and then it was chosen as one of the top Sinful Sunday posts that week, despite not being related to the prompt. I still feel proud and positive about this image. It has gone on to be the 6th most viewed post of all time (not just this year). And was partly responsible for my best ever blog stats that month.
That Bedroom Talk post inspired me to actually write some fiction. I’m really proud of An Advent Diary and am thinking of making it into a rolling story through the year. Perhaps the next instalment will be around Valentines……
At the beginning of December I was happy and proud to find that I was once again recognised in the Top 100 Sex Blogger List. This year I am at 32. My aim is for a top 10 spot, which will need some work both in terms of content and blog structure. I’m up for a challenge,
It’s catchup week on Food 4 Thought and what better time to think about these things than at Christmas. A time of indulgence, being a bit naughty and doing nice things. The worst of this year’s Christmas indulgence is behind me as I write this. But, that means I have the opportunity to think ahead.
I’ve been eating things that I had excluded from my diet (chocolate, pastry, the key lime pie I ate on Christmas Eve). I’ve been drinking a little too much alcohol for a couple of weeks now (since our trip to Amsterdam). I’m an all or nothing person when it comes to those kinds of indulgences. But actually it’s all part of living life to the full while trying to make more health choices.
Staying with my mum wasn’t an indulgence of any kind. She refuses to moderate her smoking habit in our presence, insists on watching rubbish on TV and picks a fight if and when she can. So, that meant that when we arrived at our hotel just and hour away, on Boxing Day afternoon I embraced the atmosphere. It wasn’t anywhere special, just comfortable, relaxed and friendly. Everything we had been missing over the previous two. We had already had an early lunch with my son and his wife and now had some down time. We could have headed to the room and slept or maybe indulged in some sex. But no, we just relaxed in the bar and enjoyed our own company and the enjoyment of those around us.
Later we walked to my daughter in law’s parents house and were warmly welcomed. They were fabulous hosts and we had an amazing time. All of my stresses of the previous 5 days or so were swept away.
That night as I lay in bed, it occurred to me that you don’t need to spend lots of money or be somewhere luxurious to feel indulged. Plus that one good day can help undo many bad ones.
Goodness we’ve had some great fun this year. We’ve stayed in a couple of kinky B&B places (in the UK and in Amsterdam). We’ve been to club events and we’ve made some new kinky friends. We also attended Eroticon and were able to meet up with many more people from the blog and twitter world. I’ll write more about that in a separate post.
We have great naughty stuff to look forward to too. A different club to attend in January – it’s time to spread our BDSM kink wings this year. Hopefully there’ll be more play times both at home and with our new friends. There’s Eroticon to look forward to in just under 3 months, something I’m really looking forward to.
Plus, there will hopefully be new and different experiences that I don’t even know about yet. That’s the nature of things round here, I often don’t even know what’s going to happen until it actually has.
Master has a big birthday coming up at the end of March. He’s still deciding where to go to celebrate. I’m hoping for warm weather, but will be happy with wherever he choses. We are also thinking ahead to the summer holidays and Spain and France (different route and different cities to this year).
I have a new planner that I am going to break out perhaps later today. My mind is swirling with ideas for this blog and my new one.
Yes folks I have a new, vanilla blog. It’s about my need and desire to get fitter and healthier in 2020. It’s also about all things physical and mental health for anyone who’s interested. I’m going to be inviting guest bloggers, linking and ideas from those around me (that means you if you are reading this). It won’t be about telling others what they should do, but about creating a safe and healthy space to share ideas. The link will go up here very soon.
As for this blog, well a new image is overdue. Plus some goals for what I write and how I respond to others.
I’m hoping to get some paid work soon too, because you can’t continue to do new things without money. While most of that will be in my vanilla world. I am definitely going to take the plunge and start pithing my writing. It is time to make my Smutlancer membership pay.
I’m not sure if the planned surgery is a nice thing or not. Losing the weight I need to get that far will be. After recovery and being able to wear clothes with a more plunging neckline will be too.
So, on that positive note, I’m signing off. But don’t go away, there’ll be more here and elsewhere very soon!
I lived with a man who told so many lies that I’m sure he grew to believe them. They mainly involved the reasons he would be late home, not home at all or unable to get to events involving his son. Sometimes I believed his lies too because It was easier and felt safer.
Plus, I could repeat the lies to family members and friends. For example: “B (my ex) can’t come to your wedding because he is working away from home, so I’ll go on my own. What kind of man does that to his new wife?
On more than one occassion we met a few streets from my parents house and then arrived together, so they wouldn’t know. It’s a mystery to me why I carried on ths pretense for so long.
I’m essentially a truthful person, I tend to tell the truth even when I know the truth will hurt. Which is why I am puzzled that I got so good at telling lies to others. And why I got so bad at acknowledging that they were lies. However it is a world I will never inhabit again.
But I have lied in my life.
I found it difficult to make friends at school and told some absolute woppers to try to get people to like me. At age 5 I told my teacher my mum had given birth to my brother, I drew a picture of the whole family. My mum was pregnant at the time, but hadn’t had my brother yet. She went to school to tell the teacher I had chicken pox, she was most surprised mum was quite so fat. But no harm done. The next one was terrible – I am embarrassed to admit that in the first year of secondary school I told people I’d had a sister and she had died. This was a definite attempt to get friends. It backfired and I had to admit the terrible lie. But later I did make plenty of school friends, some of whom are still friends today.
I usually blushed when lying so I quickly learned it was a bad thing to do. My husband was on a different planet when it came to telling lies.
Being married to a liar
I’ve mentioned in the introduction above some of the lies B told. It became so much part of our lives that the lies even tripped off my tongue. Where was he? Working. When would he be home? Later tonight.
At the end of our relationship he told me and my son that he was helping the homeless at Christmas. We were forced to tell his family the lie. They didn’t believe it any more than we did. I’ve never asked it it was true, I want to believe it is. But I suspect it was a lie. It’s also the last one I let him tell. The last one that I used as an excuse for his short comings. A few weeks after that I met Master and since then I’ve told the truth, even it it hurt to do so.
I want to see the best in people
So, I tend to believe them even when the evidence says otherwise. It took another man I was friends with to get me to believe my husband was lying about working away from home. It took my brother to photograph B’s car outside his now partner’s house for me to believe he was living with her.
People have told massive lies at work to cover up things they haven’t done. Others have stolen my work and passed it as their own. But until the moment that I can see what has really happened I don’t want to believe it.
Maybe it is because of the lie I told as secondary school that makes me think no one else could tell lies so bad.
White lies and hurtful lies
I try not to lie these days. I might lie by omission from time to time. For example not telling my mum I have been out with my brother because she would want to come too. But in the main I try not to. I hate that if you tell one lie you will often need to tell another and another. But also I hate to be lied to. So hate to do it to others.
As I get older I have begun to see that being truthful is more important. That no matter how bad the truth is, lying is worse. When my son was a teenager he lied to me about taking drugs. The conversation we had after that has stuck with me. I told him I would rather no than be lied to and since then he has always told me the truth. It isn’t always easy to be told things you don’t want to hear. But in the end the truth rarely hurts as much as a lie. And sometimes a lie lives with you forever – why on earth would I tell people I had a sister and that she had died. I regret that lie so much.
I wonder if B regrets the lies he told me. It likely he does.
I loved reading as a child and still do. I bought books with my pocket money and borrowed them from the library. At Christmas I often received a book or two from various aunts and uncles as well as grandparents. They usually wrote inside the cover so that you knew they had bought them for you.
This week’s Food 4 Thought is about One Book from our childhood. Goodness me, what a tough task. There were and still are so many. I kept many of my childhood books and now have them on the shelves in my little office. They sit among my adulthood favourites, books on nursing and leadership and many more. Including books my son discarded at the end of his own childhood but I can’t bear to part with. That includes a number of Roald Dahl books. I still have Enid Blyton famous 5, What Katy Did, Little Women (and the rest of the series). More contemporary books (from the 1970s) like It shouldn’t happen to a vet which became All Creatures Great and Small. But the book I wanted to talk about – The Girl in the Opposite Bed by Honor Arundel.
I don’t know where it has gone, but am sure I wouldn’t have thrown it out. Maybe there’s another box in the garage I haven’t unpacked yet. This was a book about a girl who is in hospital for a week or two. While there she encounters a girl she doesn’t like at first but whom eventually becomes her friend. But I can’t remember the exact story and can’t check it since it is out of print.
That book helped to define me in terms of my future career. Because after reading The Girl in the Opposite Bed I moved on to books about nurses (especially the Sue Barton stories). As well as others about people who were sick or injured. I must have been a fun loving adolescent!
One book I still have, that is older than The Girl in the Opposite Bed would be is Mrs Cockle’s Cat by Philippa Pearce. This is important not because of the story, though it is a good one about an elderly lady and her cat. But because I was given it as an award at primary school. I wrote a story and won a book.
Since then I’ve continued to write, but mostly for my own pleasure. As I’ve mentioned before I used to write stories in longhand as a teenager and young adult. But until I entered the Smut Marathon in 2018 I hadn’t submitted my fiction to any other competitions. Over the years I’ve lost my confidence in writing fiction and I no longer find it as easy as writing non fiction. Thinking about it, I’m maybe just a bit out of practice.
Next year I’m going to be much more specific about my goals. Later in the month I’ll publish those goals and writing fiction will be amongst them. Because if I could win a prize at around 10 years of age I’m pretty sure I can write something worth while at 57.
This weeks F4T prompt is freedom. You would imagine that as a slave in a M/s relationship, my freedom would be limited in some way. But actually I feel more at liberty to do the things I want to do than at any point in my adult life. That’s partly because I have fewer responsibilities. But also because I feel safe and secure in my relationship. I have freedom to express myself, both here on this blog and also with Master.
The responsibilities of life
We all have to act within certain rules in life. No one is free to do as they wish – there are laws, moral codes and organisational rules. But while some people manage to exercise the freedom to be themselves within those confines, others feel constrained. For a long time I felt like that, even though I had a lot of freedom. I had a husband and son to care for (and the husband wasn’t low maintenance), a job and wider family. But still I had opportunities to go out with friends, read, study and shop for myself. However I felt trapped, unable to express myself, to be the person I wanted to be. Trouble was, I didn’t actually know what I wanted. Just not what I had.
For years and years I did nothing about it. I went to work, out with my husband, saw family and cared for my son. I was known for taking my nephews and nieces out for days and even on holiday. We were always doing something for someone and usually the main driver was me. I was my own worst enemy. But keeping my head down and getting on with it felt like the best approach, then I didn’t need to think about my own needs and desires. However that approach was not sustainable, not from anyway.
The life I have now has taken many years to achieve. One of the problems was I didn’t actually have a goal. Instead I just followed my heart and body. In hindsight, there is nothing wrong with this, but if I’d had a plan the journey may have been smoother.
Fear of making mistakes and of what others would think of me held me back. It stopped me seeking help when I needed it and made me internalise my problems.
I really don’t recommend cheating on your partner. But in the end it was the catalyst for working out what I wanted and needed. I was lucky that along the way I met someone that I really do want to spend the rest of my life with.
The by product is that my ex is also happier with his new partner. For a long time he denied it, since he claimed to still love me. But when I see him now I know that his new lady provides all of the things I detested. In particular she is better at mothering him. I always said that I had one child and didn’t need him to become another. Plus at the time he had a mother.
It’s strange that writing a sex and relationship based blog can provide freedom. But it does, and in a way that my previous work related one never could. Both were anonymous, at least to begin with. But I feared being outed and sacked for writing about the health service then I have writing about sex and BDSM.
This blog has evolved over time. I always wrote about my relationships including the break up of my marriage. But over the past couple of years I have felt more freedom to write anything. Though all of my posts are personal in some way, even the fiction. That’s why I decided to write about my cancer and also the reason there will be more posts about my diet and fitness. Now I am not working I have more time to be creative, and the freedom to do so. Trouble is words don’t automatically flow just because we want them to.
I love to write about the fun, BDSM related things we do. The new toys we try and the way in which we push our relationship and dynamic. I want to develop this blog, make it more dynamic. I want to write on a wider range of topics.
Master told me at the beginning of our relationship that he liked my blog and loved to read it. He told me that I would always have freedom to write as I wanted and I took this at face value. That doesn’t mean I don’t consider him and his feelings when I write. I’m not completely gungho. But my freedom to write and create is never restricted by him.
Freedom to be a submissive
In my former life I both loved and hated being free to make decisions. I was able to make them but grew weary from doing it. What to eat, where to go, work decisions, relationship decisions. It just went on and on. So to be given the opportunity to give up making some decisions has given me more freedom.
I don’t like being told what to do in all situations. But I do love it in the bedroom, during play and also in our wider life. Before I acted alone and didn’t consult because my ex was terrible at making decisions. But now I discuss everything and am happy for advice, a push or even for Master to decide for me (depending on what is required).
Being his submissive has made me happy and it has also given me more freedom to be myself than I new possible.
Like walking in the rain and the snow When there’s nowhere to go And you’re feelin’ like a part of you is dying And you’re looking for the answer in her eyes You think you’re gonna break up Then she says she wants to make up
The lyrics above are what I first thought of when I saw the F4T prompt. I bought the album about the time I first went out with my future husband. I was young and impressionable and did quite a lot for love. The song is about communication and compromise. I’d have done well to read and digest the lyrics, but I was only 15 at the time. I was more interested in singing along and listening to the other tracks on the album (Live and let Live).
Got myself into debt for the love of a man and child, as well as a desire for material goods – Funnily enough it was in my name and not his. But I also got us out of it, so yay for me.
Been on holiday with family to places I didn’t choose – Tunisia when I wanted to go to Rhodes springs immediately to mind.
Spent numerous family days at my parents when I’d rather have been at home. Especially at Christmas. I am doing it again this year to prevent my mum being alone. A lot of the things I do for my mum are for love because she is quite a difficult person to like.
Cared for my dad when he was dying. Trouble was quite a lot of the nursing staff left me to it. After all I am a nurse. My brothers were also a bit frightened and I cared for them and my mum too. I wouldn’t change this for the world however.
Tried to smooth things between my ex and my son. But I now recognise it’s time to leave them to it.
The things I do for love now
Over the past few years I have done more things for the love of myself than others. This wasn’t always the case. But also I am fortunate to have the love of a man who cares for me in a way I never thought possible. This love started without the expectations of the one with my ex. We were much much older and got together knowing that we both had an interest in sex, kink, Dominance and submission. What emerged was much much more.
With Master I have learned to be the slave he wanted and I have agreed to things I doubt I would with anyone else. One of the main things that fall in that category links back to the GOTN post mentioned on the prompt page – Piss play. It’s his kink and not really mine, but I will let him piss on me and am happy to p on him. I pretty much would do anything he asks when it comes to kink.
That’s why I offered up my limits when I agreed to become his slave. I trust Master to make those decisions for me. I do know that I can say no but will rarely do so. But partly that is because he will usually discuss things with me before he tries something new.
However, our life isn’t just about kink, far from it. I’ve grown to like quite a lot of classical music because of his interest. I go to plays and events I would never have even known about and have visited places on the basis he had been there and liked them. Some of it I wouldn’t do on my own, but am happy to be there with him. Other things I find I enjoy and would be there even if he wasn’t.
But the best thing really is that we get to be together, explore new things, go to new places and learn from our mistakes. One of the best things is that the things I do for love now are also things he does for love too. That includes visiting my mum at Christmas when he would rather be at home.
I’m pleased to say that I suggested this week’s Food for Thought prompt. A few weeks ago I read survey conducted by Kinkly.com on Faking Orgasms. The writers there had read a couple of other smaller surveys and conducted one of their own. 1232 people of different ages, gender and sexual orientation. What interested me was the headline that 80% of respondents had faked orgasms at least once in their life. Not surprisingly (well to me anyway) women fake it more than men. Reasons for faking included: wanting the encounter to end, wanting the other person to feel good and not wanting the other person to feel bad. There’s loads more to read from the survey – see the link above.
But, what is my experience?
Have I faked it and why?
I’m sorry to say only too often. Not recently but with my husband. I could count on one hand the number of times he made me come. Mainly this was because he didn’t take the time to learn about my body. We were young when we met, both virgins. I didn’t really know what a female orgasm was, let alone what it felt like. It was years before I realised how much pleasure there was to be had from touching and being touched.
For years sex was about him. Once he had come, the encounter was over. Foreplay was a bit of breast and cunt groping. I think I’ve written here before that this was a man who could fit in PIV sex during a TV commercial break.
I bought myself toys and he found or saw them. So wanted us to play with them and after that felt I ought to come too (I am simplifying things a little here)! So, given that having an orgasm took time, that his fingers weren’t as good as my toys and that I rarely came from vaginal sex, I faked it.
Me faking it made him feel good but it made me feel bad. I’d often come later after he was asleep. Some relationship history can be read here
Do I fake it now?
No because I have no need. Orgasms in this relationship are a gift and are offered frequently. Master is a man who has learned about my body and who who loves to see me come. He also owns the orgasms and by doing so has taken the pressure away from me. They are no longer something I have to do alone. Nor are they something I crave, but never get. Instead he forces them from me, sometimes many times in one session.
From early in our relationship Master conditioned me to come on demand. By touching me and counting down then telling me to come. Over time I was able to come almost without him touching me. But always those orgasms are his, arrive when permission is granted and always I thank him afterwards.
I can hand on heart say I have never faked an orgasm with Master.
Whether it is being post menopausal. Or because of the hormone inhibitors I take, my orgasms have dried up a little recently. In that I seem less able to come on demand. But rather than pretend, I tell him that I can’t or haven’t come yet. That I can do this is down to the trust between us and because I know he understands.
So we have taken to using our magic wand vibrator more and this has reignited my orgasms in a powerful way. When one of those arrives, there is no faking!
I guess I have always kept some part of myself hidden and so have had secrets. Of course once I started this journey as a submissive with men who were not my husband so the secrets became bigger. But even though my life with Master is there for all to see, there are still secrets.
The Food 4 Thought prompt this week is about secrets and the Wicked Wednesday one is about doing things out of character. I’m going to combine the two as I think that if some people knew the reality of aspects of my life they would think it out of character.
How we met
Master and I met on Alt.com. Back then it was easier to chat, though you tended to get hit on, a lot. I found a great chat room though and spent time there getting to know a few regulars. We played out scenes online which was thrilling and new to me. But we also chatted, in open and also privately. I’m pretty sure that my friends and family would consider this out of character. So when I am asked where we met, I say: online But if asked which site I try to be vague. I keep this secret, because I don’t think people would understand. Of course it is none of their business. We met, we started a relationship and now we live together.
Our lifestyle choices
It’s unlikely, though not impossible that we could bump into people we know at a munch or event. No one in my family, ex work colleagues or friends know that we pursue an alternative lifestyle. I would imagine that if I told my son or brother, say, that I am a slave they would laugh. After all I am known for my forthright views, for being vocal and being a bit of a control freak. We know that this doesn’t preclude me from giving up control to another. But frankly I am happy not to go there with them. I would also prefer them not to know I like to be spanked, that I sometimes dress up in leather clothes. Nor that I like to be restrained and that our sex is kinkier than most. These are secrets I keep from those I know.
It may come as no surprise to people that I have a blog. But I’m pretty sure no one would expect it to be about my lifestyle and contain photos of us naked. There was a time when I was frightened of my blog being discovered for fear of being outed. Especially in terms of my job. I remain careful about completely revealing my identity because I don’t want my family finding out.
At the beginning the blog was also a secret from my husband. I found it a useful place to write about our relationship so didn’t want him reading it. One day he discovered it, but is so inept at internet stuff that he wasn’t able to find it again. This I am happy about.
Is my lifestyle and blog really out of character
At one time it definitely was, but not any more. After all I have been living some kind of submissive life for over 7 years. I have been Master’s slave for over 5. But these are secrets that I keep from others because I don’t want them to become public knowledge. I don’t believe people would understand and since they affect us and not them I prefer to keep quiet.
The lies I tell are, generally small ones. Evasiveness about the events we go to and what we do there. But it would be great to be more open to say we went to a Munch rather than the pub with friends. That we attended Eroticon and met lots of like minded kinky folk who happen to write blogs and books. But sometimes the secret is better kept.