The touch of his hands
I love to feel his hands on my body. When he comes up behind me and takes hold of my waist, my bottom, my breasts in both hands. Or when he strokes my leg while we sit together or even when he takes my hand in his while we watch a film. I love them all.
Best of all though is when he strokes my naked body, the feel of his fingers gently caressing my skin. A gentle, or even hard pinch of the nipple and the way he strokes my clit exclaiming that I am turned on. He feigns surprise and I smile at him in agreement; who would have imagined his touch could excite in this way. I love that he wants to spend time exploring my body, knowing me in a way no man ever has before.
His hands are smooth, he doesn’t do manual work often. This is in contrast to the hands that touched me before. There is nothing wrong with rougher hands, they tell their own story. But I like these, love them in fact. He slides his fingers inside me and then tastes them, he says he loves the scent and taste of me.
I don’t even mind when he touches my feet. I used to be much more ticklish than I am now. Sometimes I sit at one end of the sofa and he at the other, he holds my foot and strokes the instep. I find it arousing.
The touch of my hands
There was a time when he didn’t like to be touched. At the beginning it had been a while for him. But I don’t think that is all it was. While he has always liked to hold hands and to touch me he found me touching him unnerving. He only really liked it if he saw my hands land on him. He loves his nipples squeezed and rubbed when we have sex, that was the start. Now I am able to touch his arms, tummy, legs. Of course his cock was always a different matter he loves that, always did.
I like to touch and stroke him with my fingers, but even now there are times when he prefers I don’t. However he doesn’t complain if I kiss instead. Lips on lips, cock, his neck or nipples. Touch is important and touching him is what I like to do.
I don’t touch myself as much as I once did, particularly in the vulval area. Thus is partly because I have him there to touch me instead. Sometimes he tells me to touch my pussy, instructs me to show him how I make myself come. I enjoy doing this in a way I never imagined I would.
I do stroke my breast and where my other breast once was. This helps to remind me of what I still have but also because I like the feel of it. The softness of my own body, the way it feels different when I touch myself rather than he touches me is always interesting to acknowledge.
Our hands. The way we touch ourselves and each other are an important part of our sexual relationship. Perhaps more important than I previously recognised.
Perceptions of taste and decency change over time. Many of us have (or had) Tumblr accounts, certainly before the recent policy change. Their ban on ‘adult content‘ seeks to exclude anything deemed pornographic – in particular photos and videos showing human genitals and female presenting nipples. Although I downloaded my Tumblr content and have uploaded it elsewhere, I still have my tumblr account. Soon after the ban came into force I went through and removed most content deemed unsuitable. I appealed one photo which just showed my neck and shoulders, no nipples.
Since then my posts have continued to automatically upload, with some surprising results. This was deemed unsuitable, while this wasn’t. They use AI algorithms which are meant to highlight what doesn’t meet the new regulations and leave the rest. Art is meant to be ok as is breast feeding and mastectomy scars. I presume I’d need to keep my other breast hidden if I wanted to post a photo of the latter though.
Art galleries are full of pictures of people’s naked and semi naked bodies and what is acceptable and desirable changes. Sometimes due to fashion and other times due to rules on decency. The photo below is of a painting called Phyllis and Demophoön, by Edward Burne Jones. In 1870, it was deemed distasteful, both for the full frontal male nudity and androgynous nature of the figures. This seems strange now, because it is art and anyway his genitals are rather difficult to see. I wonder though if it is ok for Tumblr.
When even the London streets are deserted it is an ideal time to take a few photos. You might notice that this is from the same evening as ‘come join the party’ a Sinful Sunday post 2 weeks ago. This time I am using the bottle (now empty) to shield myself from the gaze of the camera. It is late and I am ready for bed and Master who waits for me there. But in those last few moments, there is still the chance someone might see me from below.
The main symbol of my submission, that I am Master’s slave is my collar. Mostly I wear the same titanium collar and rarely remove it. You can see it in most of the photos of me, taken in the last 4 years or so. For Christmas Master presented me with a new collar. Something to wear on special occasions, given its weight. The photo below was taken at the end of January. For most of that month I had been unable to wear anything around my neck because of my radiotherapy treatment. That finished on 31st and so when we went to our local munch that evening I wore my Christmas collar. A symbol of his ownership of me and that I am his slave.
I have a few photos that were taken before I regularly posted anything of myself. Wayback then, I was a little more worried about showing pictures of myself. Especially those of me in a somewhat compromising situation. Things have changed over the years.
This photo was taken at the very beginning of our relationship, almost exactly 5 years ago. At the end of our second or third playdate (I think). What you can’t see here (and I might show it another day) is my red pussy which had just been pumped. Not only did he clamp my nipples, but also used the zipper and spreader bar. The intensity of pain and of pleasure that day is something I can still remember even though I am short on details. It may have happened wayback when, but this is the first time I have shared this photo here.
I’ve never really considered if I have a sexual style, never mind what it is. But I guess that just as I have altered my hair style over the years, there have been changes when it comes to my sexual style. In the past, I was some what repressed and while I had fantasies, they weren’t something I discussed. Even with my husband, though he would have liked it if I had.
When it comes to sex, I like to be led
Before I knew I was submissive I wanted my man to take the lead. I wanted to be told what to do. Trouble was, I wasn’t very good at expressing my needs. Instead, I needed someone who knew what they wanted. I certainly have that now. Master does like me to tell him what I want, but if I can’t or won’t he is perfectly able to take control (as you would expect).
I like to exhibit my sexuality to others
I love to show off, it is who I am. An extrovert by personality, while I don’t always appear so to strangers, once comfortable in their presence, I like to perform. Master uses this to his advantage and gets me to show myself in public for his pleasure. Many of my photos involve me undoing my top or showing off my bum or cunt to him. Often there is no one to see, but sometimes there is, though they tend not to notice. I love to stand in front of the window naked, but again people don’t often look up. I also love to be naked under my clothes, for easy access and exhibitionism.
The clothes I wear demonstrate my sexual style
My preference is tops and dresses that show some cleavage. This is a little more difficult since my mastectomy, but I have discovered that showing some lacy bra is fine too. I prefer to wear my skirt shorter, I’m not all that keen on midi length. My legs are still reasonable, though a bit fatter at the top than they were, or I’d like. But, I’m not averse to wearing shorts in summer or a shortish skirt. This winter I tend to have hidden myself under leggings and jumpers, and am looking forward to spring and fewer clothes. Heels are not my thing. I am tall (taller than Master) and I really do like comfort over style. But if I own lots of shoes and boots (something I only realised when I packed my stuff to move last summer).
My writing helps me express myself
This blog and twitter have allowed me to express myself in a way I didn’t expect. I enjoy writing about my experiences and constructing fiction. My journey into this M/s relationship and kink has been liberating. While I still struggle to articulate my thoughts about it into spoken work, I can express myself through my blog. The sexual being I am comes though loud and clear. And that can’t be a bad thing.