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.

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Our changing lifestyle

Friday 31st August was the last day in my job. I bought cakes and fruit for people in the office, went for lunch with colleagues and then sent my final emails. For the first time in my almost 38 year career I voluntarily walked from my workplace with no job to go to. 5 years ago I was made redundant, but within weeks I was working again. This time will be different, I am as yet undecided as to whether I want or need another job. What is more, I have made a deal with myself not to think about it until the new year.

This week we are in France. The weather is glorious, the days still a little longer than at home. We have nothing to do but be together and to remind ourselves of why we love just being together. On the spur of the moment we have extended our stay, because we can. We don’t need to be home till Sunday and neither of us has work or other responsibilities to pull us back yet.

The events of the last weeks – the move, winding down then leaving work – have sapped me of energy. I have struggled to feel sexy for my man even when he tells me how much he wants and needs me. I have slept alot this holiday and while awake Master has paid lots of attention to me and my body. Gradually I am beginning to feel human again and yes, a little horny. He asked me this morning how that manifests itself, and I had to think. It is a long time since I took the initiative, made it clear what I want. Now though maybe I am ready.

Our lifestyle to date has involved me working 4 days a week and spending those evenings alone at home, then us coming together for the weekend. Some Fridays I visit my mum and stay over. For months there has been work around the house, packing, decluttering. But now we have much more time to be together and make a life together.

What is clear is that certain elements of our M/s relationship which have been a little on the back burner will be able to come to the fore. We have been talking about our feelings, of ways in which his dominance and my submission is important to us. This is an evolving picture and something I will express here on my blog over the coming days, weeks and months. What I know is, for the first time I am putting me, our relationship and importantly Him first from now on.

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Settling in

Another Saturday and another day spent sorting and unpacking things in the summer heat. Settling in to my new life is going to take time.

On the whole, I am enjoying coming in from work and having my dinner cooked for me. No need to decide what to cook or eat, no worries. And yet, I am not sure that is how I want my life to be. Nor, will it be like this as we move forward. I had a slight moment on Wednesday when I panicked about having no role. But in truth it is part of readjusting to life as it is now. Anyway, within a month things will be different.

I am now in the final month of my notice period. I have begun to sort files, delete old stuff and tie up loose ends. Luckily the person taking on my job is someone I know and work with so the hand over should be straight forward. The good byes will be more difficult and the leaving do a little poignant. We are going to look at a possible venue after work on Monday, my birthday.

Moving on

This month really is one of good byes and moving on to a new life. Yesterday was my mother in law’s funeral. For the first time in 4 or 5 years, I saw my father in law and my ex’s family. While a sad occasion, as she died suddenly, it was also pleasant. I enjoyed seeing everyone and chatting to people I was once quite close to. I came away feeling that this was all part of ending my old life and moving on to the new one. Another part of settling in.

Perhaps things happen as they do for a reason.

So, to this blog.

For the whole time I have been writing it, the blog has been about a journey. About self discovery, about moving on and finding my place in the world. Latterly it has been about finding my slave place, about our sex and kink life.

There is still more of that to do, but this feels like a defining time for me. Will the focus of the blog change? Will I write about different things? What do I actually want to write about?

The past month has been a whirlwind of a time. We have been so busy that there has been precious little sex and kink. There has been no real time to write the blog, even if I had felt inclined. Now though I need to get myself back on track, probably through some of the memes.

Please though, dear reader, bear with me while I find my new place. While I am settling in to my new role, find time and the words to write.

I sense there will be exciting times and lots to say.
Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Release

The photo for this week’s wicked Wednesday feels very poignant and so I am using it here. After 6 years of writing my blog, of sometimes living a lie but mostly waiting I will soon be free. A butterfly about to be released, to fly away.

My husband was unfaithful to me within 2 or 3 years of our marriage. A relationship that continued for 7 years. After I found out and came to terms with the reality. After also the decision was  made to continue with the marriage I made a deal with myself. Essentially I decided if, by the time my son (who was about 3 or 4 at the time) had grown up, I wasn’t happy, I would leave the marriage. For many years I forgot about it and just lived in the moment, it wasn’t as if we were always unhappy because we weren’t.

But the memories sat on my shoulder and every now and then something happened or words were spoken that reminded me. And one day soon after my son, now grown up, left for university I realised that the time had come.

I felt trapped. The good daughter wife and mother who realised she was living a lie.

Fast forward

Today, about 7 years later and 5 since I was first unfaithful to my husband I am preparing to break free. At last.

If I had my life over again I would do things differently, maybe.

I stayed in the marriage because I thought it was the right thing for my son and because I was scared. It took me years to build the confidence to explore and to become the person I am. Maybe too, the person I needed to be with also had to be in the right place, right time.

Within a month I will have moved from my home of 27 years. I will be with my lover, my Master, the man I want to be with. In 9 weeks I will have left my job and have some space, to be me.

Meantime there is a lot to do. Life is going to be busy and tiring. I am probably going to struggle to cope and will probably say and do things that might later be regretted. Though I hope not.

It is time for me to be me. The future beckons and if I just flap my wings enough I will be that butterfly with the wind in her wings. Ready to land in my new home. With Master.

Footnote:

This came up on my repeat posts on Twitter today. Looking back defining moment

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My Trademark

This week’s Wicked Wednesday is about trademarks, for me that means a unique selling point. Something the product or indeed person is known for. Here on this blog my main trademark is  my name – MPB, but also the explicit and implicit ways the blog informs the reader who I am.

What does MPB mean?

The title of the blog is Master’s Pleasing Bitch (MPB), but what does that mean? MPB was a name given to me by Master at the beginning of our relationship over 4 years ago.

Let’s be clear, if anyone outside of this relationship called me a bitch, or even a pleasing bitch, I’d probably thump them. Well maybe not, but I would have something to say. What’s more, Master doesn’t go round calling me a bitch in public or in front of family and friends. But during a scene, when we have sex and at other times when we are alone he will refer to me as such. During those times I find the names he calls me ( there are more), arousing. I am turned on by being called his bitch. And from the start that is what he called me.

Being unique

I wouldn’t be happy if he called anyone else his bitch, though to be honest it could have happened. But I honestly don’t think anyone else will be MPB after me. In terms of the blog, I think people know me as MPB first and then as Julie. At times I worry I should have named the blog something more mainstream, but it does mean people can find me. Plus, it us unique!

My brand

Others have written about their branding for their Wicked Wednesday posts – Posyand Indieabout their names and how they came to be. Marie’spost is about about the marketing aspects of her blog and Livvy’s storyis about an actual branding. There are more, but I haven’t had chance to read them yet.

So, where does that lead me? Other than the name MPB, my brand, what other elements of  my trademark would be ways I demonstrate I am Master’s slave? I wear his collar and cuff, nipple and clitoral hood piercings as visible signs *the latter not visible to all of course). But always there are unwritten, unsaid signs  only he can see . Then there is the blog which is both written and seen. All of these are important ways in which I demonstrate my submission to him and my trademark to everyone else.

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Body image

Like many women I have a problem with the way I perceive my own body. I currently weigh close to my maximum ever, though it has fallen a little lately. But even when I was a good 2 stone lighter than I am now, I struggled with my body image. I am tall, and can carry off the extra weight to some extent, but I would rather be slim.

My ex often used to pass comment when he thought I was putting on weight, not always in a nice way. But also, he rarely complemented me on the way I looked, or told me I was especially sexy or attractive. Don’t think he never did so, but usually it was about a hair cut or new dress. Well that’s my perception.

Master on the other hand likes to see my body. He compliments me all of the time, and tells me I turn him on. He wants me wearing clothes that he feels show off the best of my body. Also, he wants access to the parts he wants to be able to touch. He takes photos of me that he considers sexy and worthy of sharing and I do so too. With him, I feel happy and safe in my body. To an extent.

This might be why I had managed to lose weight and then have put it all on. Though I usually lose and gain in this cyclical way. Complacency had set in and having believed I looked sexy to him and only he mattered I stopped worrying. Now though I hate the way I look to myself, what is more the clothes I bought 2 summers ago don’t fit.

So, when I post photos of myself naked and semi naked, I will have thought long and hard about putting them out there. He likes them, I like to show my body, I am an exhibitionist. But body image is a thing for me and I choose to lose weight right now. If I can I will keep the weight off after, but that is a whole other thing.

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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.
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On display

As the red velvet curtains opened, the stage  slowly revolved.  The slave’s limbs were firmly secured to a St Andrew’s Cross by fur lined leather cuffs. Her mouth filled with a ball gag secured behind her head. With wide eyes focused on her audience, her mind flashed back an hour.

Master had led her on a leash, naked into the small empty theatre. This place reminiscent of a venue they had visited on her birthday.  A circular stage surrounded by 20-30 seats they had sat in the midst of the action. The actors had weaved in and out of the audience making it an intimate, immersive experience. This was how the idea had formed in Master’s mind.

Now though, the seats were filled with smartly dressed men and women, the Dominants. At their feet an equal number of naked submissive people. As the stage slowly rotated and slave realised she knew everyone. Some were mere acquaintances and others true special friends to them both.

Master stepped up to the applause of the group and approached his slave. Tears filled her eyes as he began to stroke her with the fingers of both hands. Starting at her shoulders, moving down her arms, onto her tummy, up to her breasts, circling the nipples. Finally he placed the fingers of his left hand between her legs and stroked the wet, throbbing pussy then leant down to suck her right nipple. She squirmed, bucking her hips towards his fingers. The stage stopped moving.

Standing up he leaned towards her left ear and whispered.

“Darling slave girl, your fantasies are about to be realised” Spit filled her mouth as she tried to speak, to ask what he meant. He grinned and took a vibrating wand in his hand and pushed it into her throbbing pussy and beckoned to a man in the audience. He in turn nodded to the girl at his feet and she stood up, walked purposefully to the stage, stepped up and as previously instructed dropped to her knees.

Master removed the wand and the girl crawled close to the slave. She leaned up and her tongue circled the clitoris of her subject. Slave’s juices began to gush forth, only to be lapped up.

Slave focused on her grinning Master and nodded. Whatever her resovations, Master knew just what she needed.  On display, secured to the cross, her previously identified boundaries pushed to the limit. Safe in the knowledge that they shared a secret safe code she nodded again.

Master turned away and invited their friend Ross to take up a flogger and begin the show.
Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

The right track

This week’s wicked Wednesday prompt is conviction. If my brain was working as maybe it ought to then I’d write some smutty and horny story about a convict. But instead it is a little weary from posting 31 times in April. The blogging A-Z kind of took it out of me. As usual I failed to plan and was often playing catch up. Sometimes there was a kink related theme, but often not. Interestingly I found the former easier to think about and deal with. A lesson for the future. Back to today though. Conviction in this case is about knowing I am actually on the right track with life and relationships.

Me and us

Our sex life is revitalised. Master seems to be over his shoulder problems, but more than that we have worked out ways of having sex without putting pressure on it. It’s taken us ages to realise that sex (at least at the beginning of a session) works better on our sides. For me, it seems to help with some of the pain issues I was having on penetration and for him his shoulder pain. Once we get going, then a variety of positions is possible. It is adding to Master’s confidence again and so our sex life. We are definitely on the right track. Next, hopefully our kink and play time will also be revitalised. Part of that has been about winter, cold weather and lack of opportunity. Which leads me onto the next exciting development.

Next chapter

Within the next month I will have resigned my job. I have told my boss and started to prepare to recruit a successor. I need to give 3 months notice and plan to leave at the end of August. This decision has been made because I recognise the emotional strain I am going to be under over the coming months. The house move / swap is now on and I will be moving out and my ex and his partner moving in. My half of the house will be sold to her and I will move in with Master. At last I am in the process of instructing a solicitor to proceed with he sale.

I would be naive to believe this wouldn’t be stressful. I have lived here for 27 years. It was our family home and it will be a strain to leave. But my future awaits me and our future awaits us. We are definitely on the right track. Updates to follow.

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

Driving lessons

The Wicked Wednesday prompt this week is driving lessons. This is something I have less than good memories of. For a start it took me 5 times to pass my test, over several years. But it also brings back memories of my first driving instructor who was something of a pervert.

My first experience

Some of my friends got their dads to teach them to drive, but mine was quite an impatient person. While on the surface a calm man he would snap a bit when under pressure. His car was a necessity for his livelihood, so he valued it over most things. His previous experience of trying to teach my mum to drive had not ended well, so he was clear he would prefer me and my brothers to have professional driving lessons.

I was just turned 17 and still at school, now in my final year. We now had ‘free periods’ where we could do course and home work, help with the lower classes and generally act like the adults we were meant to almost be. I remember spending a lot of time chatting and sitting about. Generally having fun and enjoying the freedom. It also allowed me to have driving lessons during the school day. A friend recommended a driving instructor so I called him up.

At first he seemed pretty efficient and professional. I seemed to get the hang of things quickly and before the end of the school year he declared me ready for my test. Everything was booked and with just a couple of weeks to go, I booked some extra lessons. Trouble was it was at this point he decided to get me to pull over in a quiet street and put his hand into my blouse.

Looking back the whole thing was relatively benign. Especially since I smacked his hand away and made it clear that I was not allowing him to go further. He was a middle aged man (I think) and he made me very uncomfortable. While I wanted to tell him I would cancel future lessons and find someone else, I couldn’t. The driving  test was only a couple of weeks away.  So, without telling anyone about my experience I carried on. Endured the next couple of lessons and took my test. Which of course I failed.

Then I sacked him

And found myself another instructor before taking the test again quickly, I think over the summer holidays. But for some reason, probably related to my first instructor I didn’t pass. I became a nervous driver, more so on the day of the test.

I took a break while I started nursing school then restarted and finally I passed. It is strange but the anxiety I felt on the day of a driving test has only ever been replicated by job interviews. The nerves definitely increased over time.

But, I am glad I persevered and got through the lessons and test. Looking back, I wonder why I let my early experience affect me. But of course I am in my 50s now and then I was just 17.

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