As I wrote here in 2016, mutual masturbation has become a part of my life that is different from what happened before. Now that we live together, all elements of our sex life have moved onto another level. There is more sex and more masturbation. Plus there is more time for fun and games while masturbating.
Slave to the machine
We lay in bed. I was browsing twitter, blog comments, the news. Regular stuff. He was looking at porn, while stroking himself, almost absent mindedly. Or so I thought. Suddenly he turned to me and told me he wanted me to fuck the machine. I was comfortable, warm and happy doing what I was doing, but the idea did appeal. Plus, cock in hand, he was half way out of bed. I rushed to get the machine from the room next door and within moments was hovering above the condom covered dildo. Briefly I stroked my slick vulva, already wet with anticipation and then sat down on the silicone cock. It felt good.
“Go on girl, fuck the machine” He grinned, perching on the end of the bed. I rocked, using the handle to help me ride the thing like a rodeo horse. The dildo moved in and out of me as I rode forward and back. All the time he was stroking himself, and egging me on. He told me I was a slave to the machine, and so I was.
Reaching for his camera, he told me to look at him. It was easy to see that he had me just where he wanted me. I was on the edge of orgasm, the pleasure seeping from every orifice, the pleasure showing in my face. Photos of my face would show me heavy eyed, lustful, lost in my submission as I listened for instructions. The photos he took showed something else, though expressive in themselves.
Afterwards he fucked me on the bed. As is often the case, our masturbation session led to sex. And orgasms.
When I took this little selfie I had no idea that the target was slightly out of focus. But sometimes imperfections are just the right thing and today feels like one of those days. This is my nipple. It’s the only one I have and it is time to celebrate what I have, imperfections, blurriness and all.
As he takes pleasure from me his enjoyment is evident. He tells me he loves the taste of me. The feel of my clit and especially my piercing on his tongue as it explores my depths. At the same time, I am able to lie back and enjoy the sensations, the arousal as my clitoris hardens to his touch. The way my vaginal opening clenches around his fingers as he slides them in. The orgasm growing from within me as he finds my g-spot while all the time lapping at me like a cat. The enjoyment he receives is more than matched my the intense pleasure he gives me. And that is just the start.
How I long for the long days of summer. Days when there is no need for coats and jumpers, socks and boots. Times when it is possible to wear just a dress or shorts and a top and little else. Actually we leave for a winter sun holiday in two weeks, so maybe my thoughts of summer aren’t too far away. Neither are opportunities like this.
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.
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.
Since finishing work at the end of last summer I have hardly worn a dress. This is really unusual for me because at work I wore dresses most of the time. Bare legged in the summer and with tights (often opaque) in the winter. Over the past few months though, separates have been the thing and when I say separates I don’t think I’ve worn a skirt once. I’ve settled into a more informal way of dressing, trousers and jeans but more often than not leggings. This means I have had to invest in more socks. I am starting to love socks more and more and can see the appeal they have to others. These have long been my favourite socks. Especially good for winter and for wearing with boots. Sadly, this might be their last winter…..
From time to time I post on facebook a lot. Checking in to bars and restaurants, announcing my departure for and arrival on holiday. Posting daily holiday snaps, often of churches and historical buildings. Friends and family expect this stuff of me. They pull my leg about the number of trips we take and my brothers expect the churches etc. (mainly so they can wind me up). Recently though I have been quieter. For one thing, we have been to fewer interesting places. But mainly it is because I don’t write about breast cancer there.
All of the people who need to know about my recent diagnosis do so. But I feel guilty that I haven’t told some people. For one I couldn’t cope with telling people who aren’t close or I don’t know well. Others it just felt wrong sending a message to give them that information. Last week I felt tempted to write an end of treatment general message, I felt happy and wanted to share. But it would have caused something of a storm, so I didn’t.
There is one place on Facebook I can go to though and that is the Breast Cancer Facebook Group I have joined.
Checking in, support and sharing experiences
Shortly after I had my mastectomy I searched facebook for Breast Cancer related groups and found one that is UK based. Posts now pop up on my timeline on a daily basis. It is very friendly and supportive. It contains practical resources about equipment, lingerie, insurance etc. But respects that there are many types of breast cancer and that everyone’s journey is different. It is a place for people who have or have had breast cancer, but excludes family and partners. This is for a good reason as everyone needs a safe space. Like me, many haven’t told family and friends and are unable to express themselves elsewhere.
As people will know, I couldn’t post the image above on Facebook. Not that I would since I don’t want my family, friends, ex work colleagues and acquaintances to see my bare tit. But anyway photos of breasts are banned so it would get removed quickly and no doubt I would be suspended from the site too. Thank goodness though I can show photos on twitter, though of course that is my secret account and I am not followed there by vanilla friends. We are allowed though, to show mastectomy photos on the breast cancer facebook page.
This is how I know that my mastectomy scar looks similar to others who have had one that is skin sparing. It is also how I know that the red skin I have from radiotherapy is about right and doesn’t warrant a medical opinion. The page has helped me understand the treatment plans that occur for different types of cancer and recognise mine is on a par. This is reassuring stuff.
Doom and gloom
Checking in to the breast cancer page though, can be a bit depressing. There are people of all ages from young women often with little children to those in their 70s and 80s and often have other illnesses. Many people are calm even when frightened about their diagnosis but others are full of panic and anxiety. People don’t read and take account of what has already been said and so the same questions are asked time and again. The journey of diagnosis and treatment are frightening and this is a safe place for people to express their fears. Sadly too, some people have recurrence, or secondaries at diagnosis. There are those for whom this is a palliative journey and that is really sad.
I’m not sure how long I will stay a member of this group. I may already have taken most of what I need. However it is a useful place to go and to know you are amongst others that understand what you have been through. I am lucky that I have a supportive partner, friends and family I can talk to as well as a whole community of sex bloggers. I have my twitter account to post pictures to and rant on if I wish.
This experience with breast cancer has made me think about what I place in the public domain though. Whether it is here on my blog, on my @MPB twitter account or on facebook. That is probably for the best.