Just over a week into the new year, and our holiday to Belgium behind us I am now thinking about the year ahead. While I am not necessarily a person who wholly believes in things like numerology, horoscopes or other things psychic, I do kind of want to believe the idea that 2016 was the year of endings and 2017 about a new start.
Do you ever think you see something or someone in your sightline, turn around and realise that the thing or person is not there?
Just part of your imagination?
Perhaps a shadow.
A shadow of the person you were, of a person you knew and loved but who is now gone? A pet that you owned and is also gone?
I often stand in my kitchen, and think I see someone or something outside in the front garden. Afterwards I realise it was a shadow, caused by the way the sun moved across the garden rather than ever quite shining in. It is to do with the way the house is positioned and I know this.
But from time to time I have imagined I briefly witnessed the cat run across the garden, or someone walk down my garden path. But they are not real animals or people, they are shadows.
The cat died 4 or 5 years ago and people who I am not expecting rarely turn up these days, unless they are trying to sell something. Perhaps double glazing or religion.
But actually I like to imagine the ghosts of those lost are around me. Tribbles the cat (named by my son and often out of the house and seeking to come in) who died while his Master was away at university in the USA. My much loved nan who died 17 years ago and who I swear after she was gone made some of my son’s toys make their electronic noise out of the blue.
Most recently my dad, who died two years ago next week.
Sometimes when I turn around I think I see him walking up the path. In the area because he has been to fit an outside light at someone’s house, to put in a socket or 5 (he was an electrician) and who is hoping for a cup of coffee, a biscuit and a chat.
But sadly they are all shadows.
Or maybe not so sadly since those shadows bring the memories to the fore and that can’t be either a bad or scary thing. They are the shadows of our lives gone by, our memories and perhaps also of memories to be made in the future. They are something to be valued and enjoyed. Not a very wicked Wednesday, but one from the heart.
We all make choices everyday. When to get up, what to eat, where to go, what to say to others. We have control over our actions, the ability not to be late for work, the ability to eat healthily and to be kind to others. We don’t always exercise the choices we should and sometimes we get ourselves into positions whereby we don’t feel we have a choice at all.
I got myself into such a place over hubby. He cheated early in our marriage when my son was young and we were financially challenged. I faced the choice about our relationship – stay or go, stay of kick him out. But I struggled in the decision making process and believed that I had no choice. I hated the idea of telling others of his infidelity of making people hate him. I hated the idea of being left alone, of being a single parent. I hated the idea of being even more hard up financially than I already was, working full time and getting no where. So I made the choice to stay and keep the status quo.
At the time, I thought I had no choice and therefore had made no choice at all, but of course I did choose what to do. I thought he would choose to leave, but he didn’t. In truth we were as bad as each other.
I eventually chose to precipitate the end of that marriage, getting on for 20 years later and to be honest I probably made things worse for us both in waiting so long. But if I hadn’t waited I might not be where I am now. I might not have met Master and might not have discovered the depth of my submission and desire to submit to him.
Looking back I was always submissive, it is who I am. My difficulties in making choices, not because I can’t but because I really don’t want to, perhaps stem from this being my preference, part of my personality. Just as my desire to please and to care for everyone around me is part of my natural way.
But I did make the choice in the end. I faced everyone including a grown up son. I discovered that people thought no worse of me for making the choice and discovered that many people had thought I should be making that choice sooner. Most though never articulated their thoughts on my relationship with hubby. When people start to admit that they didn’t really like him after such a long time it feels rather odd. I guess they felt it wasn’t their business, not their choice to make.
This is a choice I made rather late in the day, but one I am pleased I managed to make in the end and one that led to me being able to meet Master. It has enabled us to choose each other. It enabled me to choose to be his slave and him to choose to be my Master.
There are a number of things we have done in a public place. I have often worn no underwear beneath my clothes when out, either shopping, visiting public places or perhaps eating in a restaurant. Most of the time I am oblivious to what people either notice or think. Personally I am of the opinion that people are so wrapped up in their own lives, or perhaps their phones to know or care what others do around them. Indeed I frequently climb over people on the train who don’t even know I was sitting next to them, so much are they absorbed by their phone or tablet computer! Master and I often observe others in the course of their daily lives and wonder if they even notice us. And not just because we are people in our 50’s and so invisible to younger people.
There is so much about my life that I love, that I am happy with.
Kneeling and knocking over your gin and tonic (more of that later)
Kneeling didn’t always carry the meaning for me that it does now. When I was in my late 20’s and early 30’s I was a district (community) nurse and in those days we spent quite a bit of time on our knees. In hospital the furniture is set at a particular height, which both allows the patient to easily move, say from bed to chair plus the height helps with the strain on the back. It was less often during that time that furniture was at the right height for either, though we had hoists, blocks to raise chairs etc. However, I know I spent quite a bit of time on the floor, on my knees. Sometimes this was about getting closer to the patient, holding their hand and in the absence of any where close to sit, I would kneel. Other times it was about dressings, often to the legs. Rather than bed, I would kneel.
All of that is a long time ago and I am no longer 30 something. My back gets stiff and painful from my nursing career and it is less easy to jump up from my knees. Plus, when I kneel my back aches.
However the desire to kneel is great.
There is nothing more special that when Master demands: ‘On your knees girl’. Often this means He wishes me to suck His cock. Or perhaps He just wishes to exert His Dominance and authority over me. There is something about those words that make my knees weak and allow sinking to my knees all the easier. If naked He might request I spread my knees apart so that he can feel the slickness spreading between my legs. Sometimes He will place a leather collar around my neck, or perhaps put on a harness. Somehow the combination of those things: the collar, the kneeling, feeling my cunt will almost bring me off on the spot. For me kneeling is part of my submission, all more special because I don’t do it so often, or for long. Half an hour like that and it is difficult to actually move. The mind is willing but the body is knackered!
It has been a busy working day and I was later home because I was helping my son with the sale of the car he was given after my dad died ( it didn’t happen but that is another story). Dinner out of the way, the clearing up done, I sat down to write this post and sat for a moment wondering what word to include with Kneeling.
I glanced out in the garden and noticed in the dusky gloom, the towels I put on the washing line yesterday and which were too wet to bring in last night due to the showers I didn’t predict. I jumped up, thinking I would sort that first. I put one foot into my boot (which I had helpfully kicked off near to the sofa; oh how lazy you become when living alone) and somehow knocked over my lovely glass of gin and tonic!!!
So as I cleared up the mess and refilled my glass before bringing in the towels I named the second part of this post; K for knocking over your gin and tonic!
This post is inspired by this one by Geno Day. Turmoil of the mind and its effects on the body, and vice versa.
Generally these days I am a reasonably calm person. I say these days, because perhaps that wasn’t always so. For a period of time my life itself was in a state of flux as I worked through the decisions I had made to stray from my marriage and then to end it. Meeting Master occured during that time and I struggled to balance the various elements of my life as it was then with discovering my apparent deep seated need for submission. Times spent with him, meant learning to let go of my daily life, and embracing the new experiences he offered me. I learned to go for whole days and longer without considering my job or the other people in my life who had a call on me – the nearly ex husband, my son, my parents. Instead I learned to concentrate on me and on him, my Sir as he was at the time. We played quite a bit in those early days and through that play, I found out so much about my body discovering that by letting go of the turmoil present within my mind, something else took its place. A freedom in my head, the ability to allow my submission to build and to take its place. Perhaps though the turmoil moved to a new place; somewhere around my groin area.
Orgasms were for a long time a way of gaining release from the frustrations of my life and the marriage where I seemed unable to enjoy sex with my husband. The freedom that came with those orgasms were however short lived, momentary even. Meeting Master, however meant that things felt different. Sex was different, I enjoyed it, embraced it, loved it even. Orgasms were no longer mine to own, and in the main, he decided when they occured. Having that control removed, freed me even more, allowing my body to respond to him and my mind to focus on him. He trained my to respond to his command, counting me down from 5 or 10 or heaven forbid, 20. I found that by focusing on him and not on what the end result was to be meant that I was able to orgasm on his command. My body responded in a way that I would never have imagined.
Fast forward to now, just over two years into the relationship. Now his slave and his property, I am the writhing slut he wants and needs. My body often enters a state of physical turmoil towards the end of the count, as I fight to control it until it is time. My body writhes and reacts almost of its own accord as the physical conscious reacts with the unconscious. Fluid gushes from my pussy, demonstrating the physical arousal. My clitoris hardens and sounds emerge from my mouth as all of the emotions come together in climax. He loves me to look at him as I cum. He loves to see my eyes shining and I love to see the power that he recognises in himself at that moment. As the turmoil passes, so I thank him for the gift of that orgasm. He owns them, but gives them freely to me and then he tells me I am a good girl.