Experiences of bondage

I am kneeling on the bed my ankles in a spreader bar. There is a clamp attached to my labia. My wrists are cuffed.

Bondage has been part of my BDSM / kink experience since the beginning. Both of my dominants have enjoyed restraining me in one way or another and from the start I knew it was something I liked too. Their techniques, materials used and locations may have differed, but the experience for me is the same. I find restraint relaxing and freeing, so much so that I rarely find the need to struggle against it.

First experiences of bondage

S was into homemade equipment. Indeed he was into homemade everything, he was somewhat careful with his money. However that doesn’t detract from his skill and imagination. He loved being outdoors and was a keen hiker and cyclist, and a day out with him was always interesting. Along with the all weather picnic he carried rope, scarves and other equipment in his backpack. I can’t deny that I had some extremely fun times with him. It is a shame that there is no photographic evidence so show for those times.

A number of times, I found myself tied to a tree while he used my body or had me give him a blowjob. Back at home he had a fabulous bed with a frame that lent itself perfectly to tying me to it. Then he would use ties, of which he had a large often garish supply.

Even on the day he dumped me I had been tied up and used. Long time readers will know that there was a part two to that relationship. Even though the D/s ended, the kinky sex and restraint didn’t. We enjoyed that right until the last time we met.

Reflections on my experiences of bondage with Master

The very first time we played, I was restrained in a spreader bar, that was tied to the bed. My wrists were cuffed and restrained to the bed above my head. I was blindfolded and gagged. For the first time in a long time I allowed myself (if I had any control) to drift into sub space. Since then, I can honestly say I haven’t looked back.

At the beginning of our relationship I called Master gadget man. This is because he had a lot of equipment; restraints, vibrators, dildos, impact toys. Over the years his repertoire has continued to grow. One of the best experiences ever, was when we went to a private dungeon for an overnight stay. The equipment there was fantastic and took things to another level. This is an experience we will be repeating in a couple of weeks time.

But it isn’t all about equipment, whether high or low tech. There is more to bondage than that. At a club I might lean over, or lie on a bench unrestrained. But, even though Master is hitting me with floggers and canes, I don’t more (much). There is something about the situation that keeps me in position and prevents me from moving out of reach. I love the way that I am able to get into my submissive space even without physical restraint.

Emotional bondage

Finally I am tied to Master by the collar and cuff I wear and by my piercings. To me these are physical symbols of emotional bondage. I agreed to be his slave and in return I wear those signs. In the main they are noticeable only by us, especially the piercings. But they are there to tell the world that I am his. The knowledge that I am his slave helps me through each day, including the decisions I make. One of the rules of our relationship is that I consider what he would think when I make a decision. Am I doing what he would want, how will it affect us and our relationship, will it make him proud of me? I believe that this is the most important element of our M/s relationship.

Play is important, as is the type of kinky sex we have. But more important is that I stay true to myself and to him. That I am bonded to him in the way I am. Even though others can’t see those invisible restraints, they are there. They make me feel safe, loved and needed.

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Orgasms

It is over 5 years since I gave up control and ownership of my orgasms. Before that, I didn’t really know that was a thing and even if I had, I doubt I would have understood what it meant.

When I was seeing S, he made me ask permission to cum. This, I have discovered isn’t the same thing as having your orgasms owned and controlled by someone else.

Permission

From the first time I was told to ask for permission to come, I loved it. Here was a man that was actually interested in me having an orgasm. Someone who wanted to experience something of my enjoyment to feel the moment. My previous experience had been with a man who was really only interested in himself.

Permission was only needed when we were together. When we weren’t and I was getting myself off, then it wasn’t necessary. I thought little about this at the time and continued on my merry way. Just as well, since we only saw each other every 6 weeks or so.

When Master and I got together he put in place the same rule. I was to ask to come when we were together. However he would own my orgasms whether we were together or not.

Ownership

When we lived apart, Master still allowed me to orgasm when we weren’t actually together. However I was to thank him at the moment I came. I pretty much never broke this rule. Amazing really since I have broken plenty other rules over the years. This though brought with it the feeling that we were emotionally joined even when we were apart. It also stopped me making myself come for the sake of it.

When I was seeing S and before that even, I masturbated frequently. I often found the process enjoyable, but once I had reached orgasm felt it anticlimactic. A few minutes later I would feel unfulfilled and start over. Sometimes I would masturbate several times in an evening, afternoon or whatever. But at the end of it all I would be left thinking that there must be more to it than that.

For some reason, masturbating and then having to thank a person not even present seemed to work better for me. During this period, most of my masturbating took place at night. Late when I couldn’t get off to sleep, early when I had been woken by my ex walking into the house or had just been disturbed by a menopausal flush. Sometimes the effect was to send me to sleep, but other times it tended to wake me. Serial orgasms alone didn’t really work for me though, whether I thanked Master or not.

Control

There is more to orgasm control than seeking permission to cum. It is about being told to cum or being told you cannot. It is about being made to wait and being reminded that your body is actually his. This is the world I now inhabit.

I can honestly say that I have not masturbated alone since I have been living with Master. Funnily enough not even when we have been apart. For some, unknown reason I haven’t felt the need to even ask. My toys, regularly used now only come into play when we decide to do so together.

Partly I guess this could be because of the various health related events of the past few months. But more it feels that there is no need. I have the control I need and I don’t need to use a toy when he his only too willing to use his fingers or tongue. Or when a toy is required he is the one holding it. Teasing me and making me beg for my orgasm.

When I look back over the past few years the rule about orgasms hasn’t changed. But the way I experience and enjoy them has. Right at the moment though, because we have both recently suffered form viral illnesses orgasms are seriously lacking for us both.

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

Revealing my vulnerability

Radiotherapy took much more out of me than I expected. The journey to the hospital, waiting around and receiving the short treatment was fine. It has been the ensuing 3 weeks that has been difficult. I have been sore, very sore and I have been tired. Surprisingly too my mood has been low. You would imagine that reaching the end of treatment would be a high and it was. So why do I feel so low? Finally this week I admitted to Master, not only am I dead tired and weary but I feel depressed. Not seriously, just a little.

I have rarely in my life admitted these kind of feelings to another and I still feel slightly surprised that I can. Maybe not quite the astonished of the Wicked Wednesday prompt, but surprised all the same. Acknowledging my vulnerability to Master is something of an achievement. Admitting it to friends and family, now that would be something. But actually, I have.

There is strength in not admitting your vulnerability

That was what I believed for many years. I wanted to appear strong, not weak. But then was often surprised people did not see through it. People, including my husband used to tell me how strong I was. While all the time I would be crying inside, unsure which way to turn, what to do. There was always someone I needed to be strong for – my son who was a young child when my husband was cheating, my husband when he was made redundant, my parents when my dad was diagnosed with cancer. The list is almost endless.

The longer you keep that stiff upper lip going the tougher you and others think you are. But in the end something has to give and when I reached outside of my marriage for another man to love me I was searching for something else. It is no surprise that I found men who wanted to use my body, who wanted to restrain and beat me. Luckily I chose wisely and neither of those men turned out to be in any way abusive.

Letting go

Over the past 5 years, Master has helped me reveal my vulnerable side. He has helped peel away the layers of armour with which I had surrounded myself. I always held secrets, things I didn’t want to tell others. Sometimes because I didn’t want to hurt another, or because I wanted to hold something back. Now though, there is nothing to hide. There is nothing I can’t tell. Secrets and lies multiply over time and then when they are told they have a greater effect. By admitting a vulnerability at the time takes away some of the weight of the problem.

It is amazing I didn’t recognise this in me before. When my son was small, around 6 or 7 he worried about so many things. We found a book in the library which, was all about a little boy like him, who learnt how to share worries so they didn’t become a huge burden. It seems a shame I didn’t make the link then, as I would have saved myself a huge amount of heart ache.

Moving forward

My doctors, nurses and others said that the period just after treatment would be difficult. That people often feel vulnerable and they were right. The soreness, even though I knew it might happen, surprised me. As did the extent of the exhaustion. But thank goodness I am with someone who had listened and read about the effects of diagnosis and treatment. Someone who understands and wants to care for me.

This illness has allowed me to be vulnerable and to allow my family to see a different side of me. Some have embraced it and reassured me while others have chosen to ignore it. But it has taught me about myself and my body and about what is important. I hope that in the future I will take the memories from this experience and choose not to try to rebuild that armour. I’m sure Master will have something to say if I try.

Maybe I am a little bit astonished so this piece fits nicely into the Wicked Wednesday prompt of ‘astonish’ as well as the Safeword D/s club prompt of vulnerability.

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What submission means to me

Last week I joined the SafeworD/s Club a chat community and website run by Missy and His Lordship. This is a great resource for both new D/s couples and also those who have been around for longer. I joined the live chat session and hope to get back soon. It was great to share experiences and find out more about everyone. I urge you to go take a look. They are also running a new Meme; Tell Me About, which started this week. The first topic is submission.

Throw-back Thursday photo from 2016

I have written about my submission many times. In fact, 177 times in the past I have labelled a post ‘submission’. Not surprising since I have been writing about this journey of mine for almost 7 years.

In the beginning

I didn’t really know what I was letting myself in for, nor did I really know what submission was (or what it wasn’t). My knowledge essentially came from books provided through my kindle in a pre 50 shades world. Many were just as unrealistic as that particular tale, often depicting a very young woman hooking up with a mega rich dominant. The more I read though, the more I realised that there was something in there for me. Mainly a world where I wouldn’t have to be the one to make all of the decisions and one where there would be sex and a lot of it. I didn’t know back then if I would enjoy the other elements such as pain and restraint. It turned out I did.

Immediately I started my first D/s relationship, I knew I should write about it. I must have had some kind of inkling that there would be no turning back and that has proved to be the case. I don’t want to go back over those early feelings (given I have written so much about them), but the archives, with links from the early days are here.

What my submission means to me now

Submission is now a way of life. It isn’t something that happens to me when we have sex, I am restrained or being flogged. Though they certainly enhance it. Instead it is more of a mindset. Something I consider when I am going about my daily life. I have agreed to serve my dominant, my Master. So, I try to think about him and what he wants and needs throughout the day. This is easier since I gave up work and actually since my cancer diagnosis.

Before, there were many competing priorities. Sometimes I felt I should be putting him first but felt I couldn’t. Many times I knew I should prioritise my own well being, but didn’t. Even when he told me I should.

During the first few weeks after I moved in with him, there was a period of adjustment. I struggled to work out who I was and what I wanted. But gradually things fell into place. I relaxed into the role we carved out for me and I began to feel calmer and more at peace with myself than I have for a very long time. If ever.

It is difficult to say what exactly is different. Just that it feels it. A bit like when you live with someone before marriage and then have a wedding. Something changes, but you are not sure what. In many ways we are a partnership, cooking and tackling household chores together. We are out a lot as we pursue cultural interests, enjoy good food and wine and we travel a lot. We also give each other space, but be communicate too and maybe that is the crux of things. Ensuring we can express not only what we want and need, but what we feel about those things. I serve him but am not waiting on him hand and foot. He has the last word, but cares for my needs deeply. Plus he washes up, makes my morning coffee and can cook too.

Ever since he named me MPB, Master has called me his pleasing and pleasure bitch. Lately he has been calling me his precious bitch. When he takes my submission it provides him with the power he needs. But we also trust each other implicitly to take care of each other. Lately he has been doing rather more of that and for once in my life I have allowed that to happen. Perhaps, at last I am happy in my submissive self. Cared for, loved and precious.

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February Photofest