Fantasies

Me from the back, wearing leather harness and spanking skirt.
An early picture of me in harness and spanking skirt.

I used to spend a lot of time thinking about what might be. Then I started on this journey of Dominance and submission, BDSM and self discovery. This whole blog is really about fulfilling fantasies. Some have exceeded my wildest dreams and some have been less thrilling. What’s left to do? Well nothing I dream of but maybe there are things to do anyway.

Sex that is like in books

By the time I was 49 I had had one sexual partner. Dull, but true, and in 2012 I decided to take the plunge and seek more from my life. I’d read about great sex in erotic and other fiction as well as magazines , but didn’t know if it was true. Turns out my sex life was definitely lacking, though not everything you read is true either. Men don’t come 5 times a night, well not when they are in their 50’s anyway. They have way more stamina and the men I discovered knew their way around a woman’s body. Of course, I was lucky with the ones I found.

Within months of my first encounter with S I’d had sex outside and then later a foursome. These were both things I’d thought about and imagined.

Later it turned out that good sex wasn’t everything. So having come from someone who loved me but was dull in bed, I now discovered that I needed both. Plus I dreamed of a proper D/s relationship.

A power exchange relationship

I’ve read a lot of books about BDSM and power exchange relationships in particular. I love the fantasy element and am happy to suspend reality in many cases. It is a shame that so many feature billionaire men who discover a young woman they have to tame and train, before falling deeply in love. But now and then there are books that are more realistic. I wanted to experience life with a dominant man, become his sex object, but had no desire to spend my life kneeling naked at his feet. In any case I had a job to hold down and a son still living at home.

Master is quite low key in his power exchange expectations. So low key that you hardly notice what is happening. The extent to which dependency occurs and you find yourself deferring to him. Of course, the process has been a long one. 5 years in February. But from the beginning there were signs – the reference to myself in the third person, his control of my orgasms and ownership of my body.

I often wonder if I am truly a slave, after all I am pretty unruly, though never truly disobedient. I am bad at calling him Master, except in the bedroom. But when I look back at the person I was at the beginning, he has helped me modify my behaviour. I am less likely to jump in to a situation and take over. I let him take the lead most of the time and now relish that fact. He usually asks my opinion but he makes the final decision.

BDSM fantasies

I’ve had the opportunity to try many experiences over the past few years. Things that people put on their fantasy lists – bondage, forced orgasm, piss play, electrical play, the vac bed, to name a few. We’ve played in public, which is something I always wanted to do and will continue to. I’d like to attend more CMnf events and perhaps ones that require a higher protocol. It certainly wouldn’t do me any harm to be a proper slave for a few hours.

But really I am at the stage where I am just happy living an ordinary life with my partner. Yes, it is a bit different from other people but it’s generally tame. But tame in a fun way.

One final thing

It has never been my fantasy to have sex with another woman, I really am heterosexual. But actually I do wonder if I should be braver and just let it happen. I know Master would enjoy watching me with a woman and it might be fun. The opportunity is there and I am conflicted about whether to take it.

You see, some of the things I have done weren’t actually fantasies until just before I did them. Or else not until I read about them and then thought why not. Plus I’m the kind of person who doesn’t like to miss out. So, we’ll see!

tellmeabout

The ceremonies of life

When I was slimmer my collar was a little big. I’d be happy if it was like this again!

Christenings, weddings, funerals and graduations have all been the ceremonies of my life. Christmas, even though I don’t go to church is a ceremony of its own. Over the years I’ve enjoyed them all. I still look back with fondness to my own wedding. I loved the day, being centre of attention. happy and in love. Marriage was much less fun than planning the wedding and living through the day.

Formal ceremonies

My favourite ceremonies with and for others though have been the ones involving my son. His christening at 6 months old, cute in his sailor suit. Family enjoying a sunny September afternoon in our garden. His school events, plays, nativity, fetes they were all ceremonial in their own way. The graduation – my son all grown up and smart in his gown, on the cusp of proper adult life. Then last Christmas his wedding. A really small and intimate affair, so different from my nuptials. A day though filled with laughter and a bride and groom who did things their own way. I loved every minute of that as much, if not more than my own.

His wedding allows me to concentrate on myself and my life with Master. I feel that the wedding ceremony is part of a bigger event. That he is now part of a new family, his own. One that will grow as, hopefully they have children in the future.

Collaring

This was a ceremony I didn’t expect to write about. But on the day that Master collared me, his slave I committed to him. Though this was not in front of other people. to bear witness, we made vows to live our lives in a certain way. I agreed to wear his collar, to be obedient and to provide service. In return he agreed to care for me and to be the best owner he could be.

4 years later and we have pretty much stuck to the vows we made to each other that night. Until I had surgery and then radiotherapy, I had rarely removed my collar. That titanium ring means as much to me as the ring I wore on my finger before.

However I do have the urge for another ceremony. I would like to affirm our commitment to each other in public, in front of my son, his wife and other very close family. But first I need to get round to divorce, get myself a new boob and make some plans. But it is something that hopefully we will do.

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

Feeling safe

This week’s Food for Thought prompt is Safewords or Words that make you feel safe. I wrote recently about safewords so am not going there again with this post. So, what words make me feel safe? Early in our relationship I wrote about the words we use within our relationship and what they mean to me, including how they make me feel safe. 5 years on it seems like time for an update.

During sex Master often provides a running commentary of what he is doing, what he wants to do and how it is making him feel. He also asks me questions designed to reaffirm to him that I am his slut, his slave, his bitch. The words he uses during those moments are part of the rituals of our sex life. They also make me feel very safe indeed.

This girl

Since the beginning of our relationship He has referred to me as girl, or more often ‘this girl’. The use of the third person, focuses me onto him and his needs rather than mine. Over time, it has become something of a pet name. It demonstrates to me that Master’s mind set is focused on our M/s dynamic and reminds me of who and what I am. His slave.

Pleasing bitch

The reference to my being his pleasing bitch often follows. There are times when I wonder about the title of my blog. But those words remind me once again about what my purpose is. To provide pleasure to him. During sex he will often refer to me as his pleasure bitch, which is what I am.

Lord and Master

I admit to being something of an unruly slave (his words) and not always massively respectful. But there are times when the need and desire to call Master my Master or Lord are very strong. During sex, when I am restrained and blindfolded during play, for example. You see this is a two way road. It isn’t just about who and what I am to him but who and what he is to me.

Of course he is also my love and when he tells me that he loves me. That he has never loved anyone like he loves me then I know this isn’t just about sex and BDSM. This man is my partner for life. And that makes me feel very safe indeed. I know that I love him too, more than words can express.

F4Thought

Informed consent

Quite rightly, consent is a frequently discussed topic on blogs and social media by the kink community. However it is not a topic I have given much space to on this blog. Often when I discuss our relationship, a Master / slave total power exchange, consent issues are implied rather than explicitly stated. In this post I’m going to attempt to articulate my journey. But also be clear that Master does have my informed consent, at all times.

Definitions

Informed consent is consent that is given freely and willingly by someone who is aware of what they are agreeing to, not under the influence of drugs or alcohol, not being pressured or coerced, and of legal age. Informed consent is often referenced in BDSM communities. It is vital before starting a scene, especially any scenes that involves play that appears nonconsentual such as forced orgasm.

Kinkly.com

These are clear and wise words. However, we don’t discuss consent every time we engage in a BDSM activity, or have kinky sex. But I do regularly reaffirm that I give my consent to Master and freely discuss my limits. Having said that, I have also given my limits to Master and he regularly pushes them. I can, however remove consent at any time and I have a safe word.

At the beginning of my journey

In August 2012 I wrote about my submission to my then Sir. The post is mainly about consequences, but it does cover consent. Even in that relationship, I didn’t renew my consent each time, but knew I could withdraw it.

When i am with Sir, i have chosen to arrive at the place we have decided to meet at the given time. I have done this in the knowledge that there are expectations placed upon me that have been discussed in advance. i submit to those willingly since this is a consentual arrangement. Sir is not big on punishment, but at the same time i am never sure whether i might be spanked, clamped or restrained. i never know where Sir is going to chose to put his cock next. i relax into the submission, i am compliant, i submit to humiliation; to situations that wouldn’t normally be part of what i would do.
I can always choose what i want to do, but everything i do has consequences.

17 August 2017
This relationship

I wrote about limits and consent in this relationship for my 2016 Blogging A-Z. You can see that informed consent has been important from the beginning.

With Master, the relationship started off in the same way, limits were discussed in a chat room and, he was always careful to test out I was happy with things. We were playing or else having sex. He discovered my exhibitionist tendencies and pushed those, but I was never unhappy with what he suggested and have never called red. I became his slave during that first summer and then last year received his collar and this caused me to think. I trust this man, he has my submission, I have agreed that he is my owner and so as part of this he should have my limits. He didn’t demand them, I offered them and he grabbed them from me.


Of course, I am a human and I have consented to this whole thing, so I can take anything away that was given. But I can’t see that happening. The limits are defined by him and that is how we live our life. He loves the power he feels owning both me and my limits and I in turn love that I no longer have to worry about this kind of thing. Now if he asked me to wear a diaper, things might change!

14 April 2016
Reflections on informed consent

As a nurse I am more aware than most about consent issues. Giving care and treatment to people unable or unwilling to give consent is part and parcel of that work. Along with always making sure that the best interests of the individual is upheld.

Even though I am the one giving consent in this context, it is important I understand what I am consenting to. There have been times when I didn’t entirely know what I was letting myself into within a scene. But thankfully I have never been with anyone who abused my right to say no.

I love to read fiction where consent issues are at best tenuous. This includes rape, people being held against their will and made to submit. But that doesn’t mean to say my life is like that. Or that I would want it to be. Relationships develop over time, whether long distance, on line or 24/7. We evolved to the consent non-consent one that we now have. And we got there through a great deal of discussion. This is something that continues to this day. I may be his slave, but I can always call red and could walk away if I wanted. however, I doubt very much I will.

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.

tellmeabout
February Photofest

Talking dirty

I’m not a vocal person when I’m having sex. But just because I don’t scream with pleasure, doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying it. Nor does it mean that I am not aroused or not about to come. Given the choice I would internalise all of the feelings I have about what I am doing and just allow them to wash over me. But I don’t really have the choice, since Master demands a reaction from me. During sex he will be talking dirty and when he does, I do too.

Running commentary

Master likes to tell me exactly what he is doing to me and how it is making him feel. If his cock is deep inside me he will let me know how deep it is and how wet I am. These tend to be things I already know, but the fact he is telling me concentrates my mind. He loves to talk about breeding me, which is something I would have liked too, if we had met sooner. This is one of his fantasies and I actually find it reassuring, it shows he loves me that much.

Much of what he says though could be described as both dirty and degrading, if you were of that mind. He call’s me a bitch and a slut and asks me who I am and if I am his. He derives enormous power from the things I say to him, that I am his slave, his pleasing bitch, his slut. You see I am not just any bitch or slut, but HIS and that is what is important. His dominance over me is confirmed for him when I am talking dirty to him, especially as my natural stat is not to speak at all. This confirms his power and authority and in that moment he is not only my Master, but my Lord too.

How talking dirty feels to me

When I tell Master that I am his pleasing bitch it reaffirms my submission. Reminds me of the slave I agreed to be and am. It helps me to focus on him and on nothing else and to remember who is the boss here. I am a consenting and willing participant, but he is in charge and calls the shots. I am there to please him, to be the slut he wants and needs. Uttering those words puts me into a space I don’t tend to inhabit all of the time.

That means that while most of our dirty talk takes place in the bedroom, or perhaps playroom there are other times. He might come up behind me, hold me and whisper in my ear: “who’s bitch are you” and of course I will answer that I am his. He rarely calls me Julie, but instead girl. This is all part of his belief that I remember my submission better if I am constantly reminded of it. Knowing that I am this girl really does focus me. And when he calls me bitch or slut instead of girl, my cunt clenches and submission becomes sexual arousal. Which I guess is all part of what I am and who I am. Master’s Pleasing Bitch, sex slave to her Master.

Our dynamic

Our relationship dynamic, Master / slave can be described as a total power exchange. I, the submissive person have given control for much of my life to my Dominant partner. This has been a gradual process over a period of almost 5 years. While working and living in my own house I always retained at least some responsibility for my needs. While there has been no visible change since I moved in with Master I sense a growth in his power over me, and my submission too.

For many people practicing BDSM is a part time pursuit, something that takes place in the bedroom, a club or dungeon. Where each takes a role, for the duration of that session. There may be rope, or impact play, one might take a dominate role and the other the bottom or submissive. Even perhaps, roles are switched depending on mood and partner. In the early days, we intended our relationship to be more about play. But it soon became clear that we wanted and needed something more. Once he had asked me to be his slave and we had begun to negotiate what that might mean, there was no looking back.

Over the past couple of weeks as the old year came to an end and this new one has started I have been reflecting on our relationship. This has partly come about through writing my end of year blog posts. But also because I have been doing some thinking and reading. Master also bought me a new collar, and just yesterday a ring arrived for my regular one. This will enable him to be able to use a lead more when we are playing.

Thoughts on my submission

Living here with Master has enabled me to give more control of my life to him. Before, I always felt I must retain control financially and of family situations. There was also work, which of course came with responsibilities. Although I am still making decisions about what I want to do, I am doing less telling and more asking about them. I have my own money and I can and do spend it. But we are living in his house and there is more dependence on my part. While this may have scared the life out of me in the past, it no longer does. Indeed it fills me with pleasure.

My illness has shown me that it is ok to rely on another for support and yes, decision making. But the funny thing is, I don’t feel the need to take the control I have given up back from him. Indeed, I can see myself giving up more and more. This is strange, since I didn’t even realise I had more to give.

For a long time I have resisted some of the signs of submission Master asked for. Ones related to dress (wearing underwear), my hair length and getting a tattoo, spring to mind, but there are others. It feels though that this year I should take the plunge and open myself up to becoming the slave I know he desires.

Thoughts on his dominance

Power is the major driver for Master. When we play, it is the very fact that my body reacts in the way it does, to his body and the toys he uses, that drives him. During sex, he loves that he can control me and my orgasms. He loves that he can call me names such as bitch and it excites me. Me being his property is something that we both acknowledge and that enables his dominance to shine though. In those moments I am slave, MPB, this girl.

When I gave myself to him totally I also gave my limits. We had agreed what they were and as we moved along the power exchange continuum I realised that he could and should own them. I can still call red (though I haven’t) and he will stop. My consent has been given for Master to make the decisions in the bedroom, playroom and in life. But importantly this is reaffirmed regularly. He does so in such a way that I must state that my limits belong to him and uttering those words make him feel more dominant. Nothing makes me happier.

I know this isn’t a relationship for everyone. I didn’t even know it was for me and indeed I do question it myself from time to time. But 2019 definitely feels like the year for an exploration into how far this dynamic might take us.

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

Reclaimed

It had been perhaps 2 weeks since my last orgasm. There hadn’t been much in the opportunity or indeed desire during our week apart. For one, it was too hot in a bedroom where the air conditioning wasn’t used. A preference of the other occupant. For another I didn’t feel the need and for another my orgasms really don’t belong to me. 

His fingers explored my damp folds and he leaned down to inspect his property. As he placed his mouth over my clit I felt my excitement build and my cunt grow wetter. I took his hard cock in my hand and worked it a little. His tongue still moving over my piercing, he slipped a finger into my vagina. I was moist but a little tight after the abstinence, so he moved his finger in and out, then inserted another. Suddenly the need to orgasm was at the forefront of my mind; an urgent need. Thankfully the countdown was only 5, else I might not have been able to hold back. This was a clitoral orgasm of the finest order.

As he pushed his cock inside me, a feeling of relief overwhelmed. Master is reclaiming his slave, he told me and that is how it felt. He told me to cum again, and this time I felt a gush from inside my cunt and I began to float. He asked me who I was, the answer flowed easily from my lips  – “this girl is Master’s slave”.

Pulling away he instructed me to mount him, so I got off the bed while he rolled onto his back. I climbed aboard and his cock slid into my now wide and slick hole. I tightened my hips and moved up and down on his throbbing dick as he rubbed my clit. More orgasms flowed from me and he pulled me forward arching his hips from underneath. my inner slut was now in full force and I became an orgasm producing machine. Spent, I lay beside him and he took me one last time, releasing his seed into my throbbing body.

I had been reclaimed.

Black bra

This afternoon, given the cool and wet weather we decided to sort out some of my clothes. Since I moved in with Master a month ago, the weather has generally been pretty warm and dry. Over the past week there has been a gradual deterioration until today it is dull, cool and very wet. With the change in seasons waiting around the corner there was a need to unpack more clothes. Plus a couple of trips away in the next few weeks mean that I will need to free up some luggage. 

The first bag I unpacked contained underwear. As I sorted through the bras, Master picked out this lovely black number. He was interested to understand when I bought it, and if I had ever worn it, since it is padded. To be honest, it fits him better than me. And to answer his questions, I don’t know and probably never. 

He looks amazing and what’s more he loved wearing it and put his shirt back on, over the top. Next we found a couple of leather bras Master bought me, but which I have rarely worn. Of course I slipped into one of them and also the fetching collar you can see me wearing below.

Me wearing a leather bra and collar with the words bitch.

That’s pretty much all the unpacking we did today, since one thing led to another and we retired to bed. I am not sure that some of the other unpacking we still need to do will be quite so much fun, but you never know.

Sinful Sunday

This slave’s tail

It has been a very long time since this slave felt that she had provided service in the way her Master originally expected.

She isn’t so much disobedient or even unruly (no matter what Master would tell you). But it is about circumstance, timing and yes, laziness, on both sides. But this girl can feel the end of that time in her life coming to an end.

This weekend has been about getting ready for this slave’s future. There will be many more weekends like this until our move is complete. Time when we will be clearing out rubbish, putting things in bags and packing up the things that will be going to Master’s house.

Meanwhile, this weekend, there has been sex, raw passionate sex. And there has been submission time for this this girl naked and open for her Master to take. Clothed without underwear allowing him to have access at any time. A reawakening, a realisation of what might have previously been denied and hidden. His for the taking.

Many months ago, Master bought his girl a tail. She had coveted a bushy tail after seeing one at one of the sexy markets, London Alternative or Birmingham Bizarre Bizarre. One day when the slave arrived at his place, he presented to her. This would be a way for her to show her slutty side and to be his bitch. But, for one reason or another though, probably we were busy and there wasn’t time and it didn’t get used.

On Sunday Master firmly fucked his girl in the ass. The second time in recent weeks as our sex life has taken on new life. The plan was to use the tail for Sinful Sunday, but actually that might have been a little painful. And for one reason and another we didn’t post on Sinful Sunday this week.

On Monday though, the slave finally wore the tail. Still a little sore, inserting the butt plus was a bit of a challenge. But the effect was wonderful, and it won’t be long before that tail comes out again. Maybe she may even wear it out at an event. Till then, here is a photo taken by Master yesterday.