Forced to orgasm

So much is written about denial. Not being allowed to come is a major part of many D/s dynamics. The need that exists within in the person being denied, and being edged and then denied again. Being forced to orgasm several or even many times is quite something too. Both are about power and control. Of one person over another. This is often what lies at the heart of a Dominance and submission dynamic.

Restrained

Imagine you are that woman secured to the St Andrew’s cross. The leather cuffs are each lined with soft fabric, and these encase your wrists and ankles. You are attached to the cross by hooks that have been clipped onto the cuffs at each point. Your nipples have been clamped, as has your clitoris. The three are joined by a chain that jangles across your tummy. You have a butt plug in your arse and a dildo inserted into your cunt.

Then imagine you don’t actually know where your tormentor is or how long you have been secured like this. You are blindfolded and have a raunchy madonna track emanating from headphones.

Your senses are confused. On the one hand you are anxious, after all you don’t know what is coming next. But damn it, you are horny. Especially when the dildo starts to move, up and down, in and out of your wet cunt. The sense of social isolation feels weird, you call out, but no one speaks. Instead the music changes, it’s something slower, more sensual. Hold, by Vera. How apt you think. You let the music wrap itself around you after all this is your lover now. The rhythm of the dildo continues, tracing a steady path.

Tortured

Suddenly it starts. The unmistakable sound of the wand. Buzzing loudly, just detectable over the music. He is there now, in front of you and even though you can’t see him, or feel him yet. You know it.

At first this is just the feeling you need. Direct stimulation on your clitoris that you have needed all along. The pressure from your full vagina and arse has been building and now you feel release just around the corner. You press your cunt onto the bulb of the wand. All the time the dildo slides in and out, but now it feels less tight, more wet. That’s because of the fluid you are producing from inside course. The orgasm rises from deep inside and knowing you’ve agreed that you don’t need to ask for permission that need fills every space. Crying out to the unseen man, “Thank you Sir” you say. He moves the wand away and you wait to be released from your restraints.

But, that isn’t what this sadist is planning. Far from it.

He begins to stroke you. Neck, shoulders, arms, tummy and then around the shaved mound. Finally he strokes your swollen clit and at the same time releases one of the nipple clamps and then sucks hard, giving some warmth and relief. “Come” He says and you just do. Its a surprise because it isn’t what you expected to happen.

Forced to orgasm multiple times

He removes the other two clamps and caresses his property gently then more roughly. Biting your nipples one after the other, while rubbing your sore clit.

The buzzing starts again, just as the music changes. Senses are now at the very edge of pleasure and pain. Again your clit responds, even though you would rather it didn’t. You know your body wants and needs this while at the same time you wish you could run away. The sadist takes 3 more orgasms from that sensitive and painful body, before the dildo stops moving. Gradually and gently he removes the restraints and then carries you over to the nearby bed.

Without the blindfold you can now look him in the eye. He is grinning as he crouches over you, legs astride, your still twitching body. You kiss deeply and passionately.

“My slut” he says. “My wanton beautiful slut” I expect you’ve had enough for now, that you have no need for cock. Your mind screams to over rule your sore and tired body. “Please Sir, yes I do. I need your cock inside my slutty body” He moves your hand to feel his dick, already oozing with pre-cum. Slowly he pushes inside you and begins to thrust in and out. Suddenly you don’t feel as if you have orgasmed at all today. The pressure begins to build, this time around the safety of your owner, the man with the power and control. Once again you are forced to orgasm. You have no control.

Exhibited for his pleasure

E

The harness served to frame my upper body. Under my arms and around my tits, before fastening at the back. My nipples tingled, held tightly within bejewelled shields stood hard and proud. The collar, attached to the harness was wide, and quite tight. This meant I could only look ahead of me, my field of vision therefore was limited.

It was difficult to know how long ago Master left me in this position, by the main door. My legs spread wide, hands behind my back, hard nipples tingling under pressure. Quite a few people had already walked past. Some had looked me in the eye, nodding in greeting. I of course had kept my face and eyes impassive, as instructed. I couldn’t deny feeling both apprehensive and excited about tonight’s proceedings. The culmination of my training as Master’s slave.

My role during the first part of proceedings was to be an exhibit.

An object to be looked at and admired. Master planned to have people to touch and arouse me. To play with me a little and perhaps use me. This both scared and excited me.

“Most people are here now” Master suddenly appeared in front of me. “Shall we go?” He held up a leather leach and clipped it to the ring at the front of her collar. I carefully moved my feet so that I would be able to walk and then concentrated on putting one heeled foot in front of the other and followed, hands still behind my back.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was still warm outside. The day had been sunny and even though it was getting dark, there was a humidity to the evening. In any case, rather than being cold as you’d expect when naked, I felt hot, aroused. It was almost as if heat emanated from my cunt and nipples.

Wearing a harness

Play thing

Master led me towards someone I recognised, a friend from our local club. “Doesn’t she look quite the exhibit” Giles smiled in appreciation. I felt myself blush a little “May I?” he asked. Master nodded and Giles looked me in the eye as he ran a finger around the front of the harness. “These are lovely” my nipples tingled as he touched the shield and squeezed a nipple.

“What would you like to do with her? ” Master asked his friend with a grin. Giles was running his fingers down my tummy his eyes on my shaved cunt. “Perhaps a little flogging?” Master led me to a bench that had been set up outside and I leaned over it. “Good girl” he whispered to me.

One by one, Master’s friends, male and female were offered use of me. Everyone else either mingled, played in their own couples or groups or stopped to watch. Over the course of the next while, maybe an hour I was watched, played with and generally used. Flogged and caned. Poked with toys and fingers. I sucked several cocks and was licked almost dry. I kneeled, and crawled for the pleasure of others. Then finally Master fucked me in full view of everyone.

At last, sore and tired I was released from the collar and harness and taken away by my fellow submissives.

I took off my shoes and went with them to prepare for the ceremony.

My permanent collaring. Master had told me that once he put the steel collar around my neck I would be his and his alone. Of course, that was the case already, but in future others would not be allowed to touch me.

My friends helped me shower and moisturise, then apply my makeup. At last they dressed me in the simple white dress I had chosen for the occasion. Low cut at the front, the dress gathered under my braless tits. The skirt flowed dreamily down to my bare feet. I was naked underneath but the garment made me look somewhat chaste. Holding the hands of Beth and Sam my two best girl friends we walked back into the garden where everyone waited.

As the three of us emerged silence fell on the large group and a pathway formed as everyone allowed us to walk through the throng. Master walked towards us and held out his hand. I took it and walked happily towards my fate. Slave to Master. A life long commitment.

The need for dominance

I am walking through the woods with my dress pulled up. I'm not wearing underwear

I thought I liked to be in charge. To have the final say, to get my own way. Well I do, but only up to a point. As an older sister I was bossy, and sometimes a bit domineering. So much so that one of my brothers bought me a post card of Adolf Hitler from a museum gift ship once. My husband was indecisive, still is of course. I made decisions because otherwise none would have been made.

When I met S, it was a relief to be given instructions, to have decision making taken from my hands. When we grew apart there were a number of things that began to grate on me. His dominance wasn’t one of them.

It’s the same with Master. It isn’t that he tells me what to do or exerts obvious control over me. But the signs are always there, often below the surface. From the first day we met, I have asked Master’s advice on things I probably would have done previously. With anyone else, save, perhaps my dad. Also I tell him things, I trust him like I have no other. Like telling him right from the beginning about my blog.

Master believes he gained a lot of useful information by having read every post I had ever written. Some of them several times. My blog has told him where my strengths and insecurities lie. Given him ideas of ways to except his power over me and give us both amazing experiences. Sometimes I have written things that I have been unable to articulate in words. This was especially useful before we lived together.

Dominance in the bedroom is always something I craved. But what I failed to recognise was my need for it in other areas. It is only now, when I look back that I can see this to be true. I like to come up with ideas of things to do and also to be consulted. But I don’t always want to be the one to have to make them happen. Or else to have to lead on making them do so. Over the years I grew weary of always being the one to make plans, or booking holidays or trips. Worse, being the one to take the brunt of stuff that went wrong.

I’m sure if others knew the extent to which I defer to Master’s decisions they would be surprised. I know I’m bratty, ‘unruly’ difficult to manage, but I am sure that is part of the appeal. For me, it is his steady unwavering control. That I feel compelled to consult even though not told to do so.

The collar is important. My commitment to him. The fact I have agreed, willingly to be his slave, his property. It serves as a constant reminder of who and what I am. Of him as my dominant, the man who put it around my neck and locked it in place. That I have a key, is irrelevant. I don’t tend to remove it without discussion. Though once or twice it has been removed in anger, it has always been put back on within hours.

Sometimes I fight against the dominance I know I need. That he knows I need. Of course, later in the series I’ll talk about my submission.

Other Ds – D/s as you would expect, day out (love a day out and wish we could have them now!) and death. Those posts relate manly to my dad who died in 2015. Lastly dungeon reviews, which I hope to continue to build on.

Wearing His Collar

Collars are such a huge symbol in the kink community. Attend any munch or kink event and you will see many people of all genders wearing them. In that context, a collar doesn’t necessarily denote that a person is submissive. But, that they consider themselves part of a community or lifestyle. Collars come in all shapes and sizes, leather, string, rope and metal. But as a submissive how does it feel to wear the collar of your dominant? In my case, His collar.

Play collar

During the first weeks of our relationship Master often put a leather play collar on me when we played. I loved the feel of it and what it represented. Plus it put me into the submissive space I needed to get into. Often we would come together at the end of a working week, at his place or mine. It took time for me to settle into that place, to move from being the responsible manager, mother to a young adult into his slut.

After a while he bought me posture collars, something I both love and hate. I don’t have the thinnest of necks but also love the tightness and restriction it provides. One of the collars was attached to a leather harness. It was when wearing these items that Master began to take more photos of me.

The first signs of permanent commitment came early in our relationship. My piercings. Of course, no one but us knew they existed.

The first external symbol

Neither of us were free to commit to each other in those early days. My ex was still coming home for odd days (and nights) and Master was still (in theory) with his primary slave. So, he bought me something to wear around my wrist. A chunky chain with a lock. To us it had the symbol of a collar worn around the neck. I wore it most, if not all of the time.

A permanent collar

In July 2015 Master collared me with a locked titanium ring. His collar. I’ve rarely removed it other than for medical reasons. My collar remains even after almost 5 years a lasting symbol of our commitment to each other. The photo below was taken on the day Master put it around my neck.

Few people know what it means and in the main even fewer mention it. Generally those that comment do so to tell me they like it. At Munches people ask if it is what they think it is. I always say that it has meaning and isn’t just for show. Because it’s made of titanium it is light weight and doesn’t set off alarms at airports. I love the look on the faces of security when I’m not called back for a pat down. When the weather is hot, or I am, I can move it around so that a cool area touches the back of my neck. Equally when feeling anxious you are likely to see me touching it. It might be a symbol, much as a wedding ring is. But I am proud to wear His collar.

Categories – C

There have been many categories beginning with C. Including censorship, Christmas and clamps. There was a fun period when I was a cock worshipping slut and more recently there is chastity. The most common reason people find my blog. A few posts on female chastity. Control feature frequently as you would expect in an M/s relationship.

She wore a butt plug

Day 2 of Blogging A-Z 2020 and today’s word is Butt Plug. I’ve written many times about wearing a plug, though only ticked it as a category 8 times. Maybe because it’s often linked with anal sex. Anyway, it’s been too long since I wrote any fiction, something I regret. So here goes.

She knew no one could see it

But that didn’t make it any easier to manage. The possibility for humiliation if anyone discovered was huge. Master had introduced this rule last week. Each morning after showering and other toilet needs she bent over while he inserted the butt plug of his choice. This was to be worn at least until lunchtime and preferably until she returned home in the evening. A rule introduced because she had become so slack at wearing it without inspection. It wasn’t that she wanted to break rules, its just that life got in the way. This ritual was to ensure that she stopped forgetting. And remembered that she was His slave. To put her firmly in her place.

Her job as personal assistant to a company director involved moving around the office a lot. She was responsible for ensuring the smooth running of the office, organising and setting up meetings and chasing after contractors. Dashing about, bending over to check something, stretching to reach something else. All part of daily life and made all the more challenging when wearing a business suit, no panties and a butt plug.

Worse though was the effect the plug had on her cunt. All day she could feel her clit throbbing. And all day she longed for relief. To feel Master’s cock inside her. Or, to have him tell her to make herself come. But this was the office and she had a responsible job.

Today’s plug was a medium sized Njoy.

The bulb had stretched her anal sphincter somewhat as it was inserted and taken a moment or two to slide into place. Now, as she sat at her desk, lowering herself carefully onto her chair, she could feel the metal ring between her buttocks. Back straight she concentrated on her posture reaching for the phone as it rang. Midday, she knew who this would be. You see, there is more to this story.

“Come in to my office slut” The voice at the other end instructed.

“Yes Sir” She replied meekly. Then standing carefully she walked quickly across the office taking care not to arouse any suspicion. But then, this was all part of daily life, and no one noticed. David was great to work for. Firm but fair, generous and understanding. But he was also Master’s best friend. The person checking she was complying with the rules. Knocking on his office door she quickly entered and flicked the sign from enter to engaged before awaiting further instructions.

“Good girl” He said, looking up.

Categories beginning with B

I wrote about butt plugs last year, but I make no excuse for doing so again. Not surprisingly the category beginning with B with the most posts is BDSM. However that is a ‘super parent’ as it were with many other subcategories underneath. There’s also blogging, body image and breast cancer which feature quite frequently (for obvious reasons). Also blow job, bondage and beaver. Yes, I once categorised a post beaver. He is a little furry friend all the way from Oregon.

Respect

Person with a notebook and grey book entitled love and respect on her lap.
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Showing respect to others is important, but it has to be earned rather than assumed. During my childhood I remember the saying: respect your elders. But what if those elders don’t conduct themselves in a way that is kind or respectful to you as a child or other adults. As a nurse, my early adult years was spent in another environment of respect your elders and also people considered to be betters. That’s where I decided that respect must be earned rather than freely given.

Kindness and consideration to others

Showing kindness and thoughtfulness towards others is key to being respectful in my book. If someone is aggressive for no reason then it is going to be more difficult to show them kindness in return. However almost 40 years of nursing and working in the public sector has trained me to be courteous and calm even when I am screaming inside. There are of course times I let rip, but they tend to be in a private place. My mum tends to wind me up and there are certainly times I’ve treated her back with the disrespect she has shown me. But I do try to refrain from that, it get’s you no where.

Email and online respect

Way before we engaged with each other on social media platforms the age of email emerged into our lives. It soon became apparent that some people were quite prepared to write things in an email that they would never say on the phone, let alone to someone’s face. I decided early on not to join in with this pursuit but instead to try to be calm and measured. I soon gained a reputation at work as someone to help people structure their emails without causing offence. I’ve tried to carry this into my blogging and social media existence. I’d rather walk away, or at least allow myself to calm down before saying things. I try also to see the best in people.

Trouble is, that doesn’t stop me being hurt. I always imagine any supposed slight is aimed at me. Yesterday I was unfollowed for disagreeing with someone on Twitter. I find this sad, but we’re living in stressful times. So, I just quietly unfollowed them.

Online chat rooms are another place where disrespect is rife. Particularly when it comes to bending the truth and telling outright lies. When I was using those places I somehow managed to navigate my way around those individuals and found myself a great man. But maybe I was lucky, who knows?

Respect within my relationship

No relationship can survive without mutual respect and that includes a power exchange dynamic. We each bring different things to our relationship which make up the key elements of what make it work. Communication is probably the key. We entered the relationship knowing what we expected from each other and over time this has broadened out. In the bedroom and playroom he is clearly the boss and I tend to follow instructions, though can be bratty. He chooses to listen or ignore and that is how it is. In our wider life I still look to him for advice and decisions. But we are more partners in decision making.

Loss of respect

My ex did things throughout our marriage that caused me to lose respect for him. He lied and was often un trustworthy. Boy, he even lied about where he was at the end when he didn’t need to.

But while I’d never trust him in terms of a relationship again. Some respect has been restored because of the way he has coped with the loss of his mum and brother. Followed immediately by his dad’s stroke. I also have great respect for his new partner. I can see that she is better placed to support him. But then they don’t have the baggage in their relationship that we had.

This is also true for Master and I. At 6 years our relationship is relatively new (well in terms of a 30 year marriage). Our past mistakes are, well in the past. We speak openly of those and are able to do our best not to allow them to happen to us. Which takes us back to communication, truthfulness and respect.

Perseverance

A person swimming at night time.
Photo by Alex Guillaume on Unsplash

When does perseverance become stubbornness? That’s the question I ask myself as I write this post. My last post was about sport and the fact that while I’m in no way sporty I do at least persevere with it. Even when I don’t really enjoy it. Because sometimes we do things because they do us good. It’s the same with relationships.

That’s why I stuck with my marriage for so long. I believed in the vows I took, even though I’m not particularly religious. Those vows were spoken in a church in front of family and friends and I wanted to see them through. But of course he broke them swiftly afterwards and I definitely didn’t want to be the one giving up on us. In the end their meaning faded from mind and I took the inevitable step.

I often think about what is different now, with this relationship. For one thing I am in my 50s and not 20s. I am more tolerant of the differences between us and our thoughts and ideas. But also I recognise that we have something special to give to each other. Often we have spoken about what would happen if we had met sooner. But the truth is that things might not have gone so well. I have definitely mellowed with age and am less short tempered than I know I was. However the chemistry between us would have been there and he wouldn’t have gone behind my back to find another woman. There’s every change Master would have wanted us to experiment more, introduce others into the relationship, but he wouldn’t have done so without my consent.

I often wonder if we had met each other sooner, then would I have found my submissive self sooner. Because once that person revealed herself to me, I realised I needed to do something about it. To find myself a dominant person and also to explore more of my submissive and sexual self. There was a definite sense of persistence as I navigated myself through the relationship with S. That I couldn’t give up what I had discovered even when my husband found out. The idea of going back to my former life frightened me more than riding out the journey to my new one. Which eventually led to meeting Master and to where we are now. That journey hasn’t always been easy either, but it did feel like the right thing to do and so it has proved.

So whether it is perseverance, stubbornness or bloody mindedness, I’m here, in a good place. One I intend to maintain.

Dating

two cats sitting on a tree. Birds fly around them. A little love heart dangles below.
Image by Gordon Johnson from Pixabay 

When I saw this F4T prompt about dating and dates I wondered what on earth I could write. In fact, I wondered if I’ve ever even been on one. I guess of course it depends on your definition of what a date is. It’s also because I never called going out, seeing someone, dating. But of course I’ve dated.

Youthful dating

My very first date was with my next door neighbour to the cinema to see a James Bond film, back in the 1970s. We only went because I refused to meet him at the back of our houses anymore until he took me somewhere. No more kissing and touching up without a trip somewhere. It was a one and only.

Next I went out with a guy over the road. He had a motorbike and my mum told me I couldn’t go on it. Of course I did and we went bowling. It wasn’t a date as such because 5 or 6 of his mates were there too. But it was fun. I finished with him soon after, the second evening with him was at his house, again with biker mates and their girlfriends. The final person I dated in our childhood street was the man I married. He took me on the bus to London, we walked in the park and ate strawberries and ice cream.

Dates with the man I married

We were together for 5 years before we married and another 7 before we had our son. Plenty of date opportunity. Nothing sticks out for me, but we occasionally made an effort to do something for just us rather than with friends or family. I guess that’s how it goes.

By the time we were of an age that we should be trying to inject some excitement into our dull lives I wasn’t keen. And if I was then he wanted to invite others along. Not to say we didn’t have our moments, but overall no dating as such.

Extramarital dating

I went out with a few men while married. Most were purely platonic though fun occasions. A few involved snogs and fumbles, a bit of excitement to spice up my otherwise dull life. It wasn’t until S that I actually went on a date that ended with us having sex. We met in the bar of a small hotel / pub and lust took over soon after we downed our drinks. It was a long distance relationship and most of it took place in his house. Dates were far and few between. He was also a bit on the tight side, preferring to spend £10 on providing a picnic than £50 on a meal in a restaurant. But we did go out on actual dates a few times.

Thankfully meeting Master was a different experience. Life with him involves a lot of interesting activities and not just kink and sex. Our first meeting was in a pub. We went for a walk, a chat and a snog then went back to the pub for a second drink. Play happened the next day and sex the week after. But from the beginning we went out together on what could be described as dates.

Dating now

When it was coming up to our anniversary at the beginning of February I asked if we could go out for dinner. An evening out where we went to dinner and went home again. A date. You see, when we eat out it is usually because it’s convenient. Before or after a concert, film or show. Or because we are travelling. I guess all of those could be dates in themselves, but they are actually part of our normal life. I’m not complaining and life is far from dull. Anyway we went out for our anniversary and it was lovely, a relaxed meal, the pub and then home and some sex. We did it again last weekend, so maybe it will become a more regular thing.

Fucked on a picnic table

This story is loosely based on fact. I really was fucked on a picnic table in the woods while wearing a leather collar and leash. But the rest of it is part of my fantasy of what might have happened that day. Content warning: Consent Non-consent (CNC), Humiliation.

I am kneeling on the seat of a picnic table. My dress is pulled up to my waist and I am exposing my bottom.
A throwback picture not linked to the original event

A story of being fucked on a picnic table

If ever you go into the woods and stumble across a picnic table, do you wonder who was there before you? What might have happened here? And before you sit down and unwrap the sandwiches you might want to get out the wet wipes, because maybe the last people here fucked on that picnic table.

We met in the car park. As instructed I was wearing a summer dress, sensible shoes and nothing else. Although it was only around 10am the sun was high in the sky and it was warm. In those days I was yet to acquire a car with air conditioning, the open windows did nothing to cool my throbbing cunt. Anticipation rather than heat was at work here. You see, I had no idea what was in store for me. The man I was meeting was very keen on fantasy games and I was his willing victim.

I travelled light, apart from the lack of clothing I only carried a small bag, containing my purse and other essentials. Stuff you don’t really need in the woods (my phone maybe, but signals were poor). He carried a largish rucksack, containing lunch and who knew what else. Not me at that point anyway. He took my bag and put it inside his.

Of course he felt me up in the car park, in front of anyone who happened by, though I can’t remember if any one did. We hadn’t seen each other for a few weeks and we had the hots for each other. I might have fucked there and then if he had requested it. He put a leather collar around my neck and attached a leash, there in the middle of the car park. Then he walked me into the dense woodland and once inside, blindfolded me.

Completely dependent on him I followed his instructions about where to step. Periodically the leash would pull tight and I’d almost stumble. But as instructed I was silent. Concentrating on the sounds and smells of the forest. I had no idea if others were around us and was both humiliated and excited at this sign of my submission. I lingered on the edge of orgasm, made worse as my cunt leaked fluid that caused my thighs to slide together as I walked. I momentarily wondered if I would be permitted an orgasm today.

Suddenly he told me to drop to my knees, as I did so the collar pulled tight against my neck. I assumed the required pose, my knees wide, hands resting loosely on them. I heard some rustling and knew what was in store. Obediently I opened my mouth to take the cock that was thrust into it. I savoured the saltiness of his pre-cum and the very size of what filled my mouth.

“Good cunt” he groaned at me. I concentrated on sucking, my mouth wide and drool already running down my chin. His fingers reached inside my summer dress and pinched my left nipple. “take me girl, take this cock” He said as I felt a sharp pain, a clamp now pinched my breast. I groaned around the huge dick filling my mouth and tensed as pain throbbed through both breasts. For a while I was lost giving him the pleasure he demanded.

He pulled away and pulled me to my feet. His fingers groping for my clit, large and engorged, before pushing two into my dripping cunt. “you are such a wanton slut aren’t you” he asked. I nodded, because it was true. I was and am. “what do you want slut?” he asked. “speak”.

“Your cock Sir”

“Come” he gently pulled on the leash and I followed. My knees knocked into something hard and putting my hands out I felt wood. I ran my hands over the grain. “It’s a picnic table” I could hear him grinning. “We can have lunch here, but first, I’m going to fuck you on it.

Sir Helped me kneel on the seat and then to lean over it. He secured rope around my wrists and tied me to the table. I was now unable to move, though had no desire to do so. I felt his cock pushing into my soaking cunt as I lay secured to the table top. My knees were grazed a little by the wood. My nipples, with the clamps still attached sending ripples of pain through my body. He took his pleasure from me. A wanton slut, blindfolded and collared. Unaware that behind her there were 3 men watching and wanking.

Because as well as taking care about the cleanliness of a picnic table, you should also beware of mentioning your fantasies. Such as the one about being fucked in the woods while others watch.

To be continued!

Co-dependent

I never thought I’d want to be dependent on another person. When my marriage was ending I was adamant I wanted to be independent and to live alone if that was required. I like my own space and at the time I had a well paid job and was exploring what being single could mean. I was 16 when I started going out with my ex, so I’ve never been single. That’s still true in a way. But this relationship is different from that one.

Master first asked me to live with him at the end of a very boozy evening in Amsterdam. It was 2014 and he had just finished with his other slave. Our hotel had an honesty bar and we sat alone there drinking dutch gin, well I did. When he asked if I’d live with him, I laughed and said no. He had to agree it was a mad idea.

But actually it wasn’t such a stupid plan, it just took a while to happen. Our dependence on each other took a while and changes were subtle. Giving up control of orgasms and my body were nothing in comparison to depending on each other emotionally. And, this isn’t a one way road. He has emotional needs that I try to satisfy, to listen to his concerns.

I also bear the brunt of his rants about the ineffectiveness of the bank of England, industry in general, government, the EU. I’m also a sounding board for his knowledge on music, film and literature. If I wasn’t there he’d just be living in his head, so it’s a worthy thing. Plus I learn stuff without having to do the hard work. I also cook and am better at it than him, though he has an amazing palate and advises on flavour He makes a mean salad dressing and is king of what herb or spice goes with what.

Since giving up work and moving in with Master the dependency ratio has swung a little. This is his property, though our home. I have an income from my work pension, but it isn’t enough to support myself completely. He is managing my savings and making a good job of it. Right now, I could walk away with a reasonable sum of money, but I’d probably need to go back to work soon after. I have no plans to do so, but I do recognise my dependence on him financially. Or maybe it is that we are co-dependent because we live cheaper as two than we did living separately.

For him, my being dependent on him feeds into his desire for power and control. I have no problem with this and have willingly given him elements of me and my body to own. There is no abuse here so I am perfectly prepared to let him have the control he so desires.

It’s easy to see how power exchange could result in an unhealthy co-dependency. That’s why consent is so important – safe, sane consensual. Plus the importance of communication, checking in with each other.

As I said at the beginning, I never expected this life. But I am happy to have it. To be with the man I love. Yes, I’m dependent on him, but he is on me. This Master / slave thing is no one way street. We co-exist and are co-dependent. Hopefully we can grow old together this way.