Orgasms

It is over 5 years since I gave up control and ownership of my orgasms. Before that, I didn’t really know that was a thing and even if I had, I doubt I would have understood what it meant.

When I was seeing S, he made me ask permission to cum. This, I have discovered isn’t the same thing as having your orgasms owned and controlled by someone else.

Permission

From the first time I was told to ask for permission to come, I loved it. Here was a man that was actually interested in me having an orgasm. Someone who wanted to experience something of my enjoyment to feel the moment. My previous experience had been with a man who was really only interested in himself.

Permission was only needed when we were together. When we weren’t and I was getting myself off, then it wasn’t necessary. I thought little about this at the time and continued on my merry way. Just as well, since we only saw each other every 6 weeks or so.

When Master and I got together he put in place the same rule. I was to ask to come when we were together. However he would own my orgasms whether we were together or not.

Ownership

When we lived apart, Master still allowed me to orgasm when we weren’t actually together. However I was to thank him at the moment I came. I pretty much never broke this rule. Amazing really since I have broken plenty other rules over the years. This though brought with it the feeling that we were emotionally joined even when we were apart. It also stopped me making myself come for the sake of it.

When I was seeing S and before that even, I masturbated frequently. I often found the process enjoyable, but once I had reached orgasm felt it anticlimactic. A few minutes later I would feel unfulfilled and start over. Sometimes I would masturbate several times in an evening, afternoon or whatever. But at the end of it all I would be left thinking that there must be more to it than that.

For some reason, masturbating and then having to thank a person not even present seemed to work better for me. During this period, most of my masturbating took place at night. Late when I couldn’t get off to sleep, early when I had been woken by my ex walking into the house or had just been disturbed by a menopausal flush. Sometimes the effect was to send me to sleep, but other times it tended to wake me. Serial orgasms alone didn’t really work for me though, whether I thanked Master or not.

Control

There is more to orgasm control than seeking permission to cum. It is about being told to cum or being told you cannot. It is about being made to wait and being reminded that your body is actually his. This is the world I now inhabit.

I can honestly say that I have not masturbated alone since I have been living with Master. Funnily enough not even when we have been apart. For some, unknown reason I haven’t felt the need to even ask. My toys, regularly used now only come into play when we decide to do so together.

Partly I guess this could be because of the various health related events of the past few months. But more it feels that there is no need. I have the control I need and I don’t need to use a toy when he his only too willing to use his fingers or tongue. Or when a toy is required he is the one holding it. Teasing me and making me beg for my orgasm.

When I look back over the past few years the rule about orgasms hasn’t changed. But the way I experience and enjoy them has. Right at the moment though, because we have both recently suffered form viral illnesses orgasms are seriously lacking for us both.

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

Wayback when

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.

February Photofest

Love lock

I’d always wanted my labia pierced. But until Master came along, I didn’t have the nerve. He was keen to know and understand my kinks and it wasn’t long before I told him about this one. The idea of wearing a chastity devise, that locked my labia together was something I’d dreamed of. A love lock if you will. That and a man who shared a desire to control my orgasms. It soon became clear he was that man.

Today, I am wearing his love lock. 2 large rings protrude from my labia and within the folds of my vulva, the clitoral hood is also pierced. A padlock secures the larger rings in place. The pressure on my clit is immense and I am on edge most of the time. I long for release, but equally I love the forced abstinence. I am forbidden to touch, but at every opportunity Master slips a finger through the gap between my pussy lips and teases. He only unlocks me when desires to use me. Thankfully that is often. He can’t get enough of his locked in love.

Photo from unknown tumblr blog before such photos were removed.

Sexual style

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.

Throwback Thursday – The exhibitionist
February Photofest

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.

Knickers to that!

There was a time in our relationship that I rarely wore underwear when we were together. It was one of the things that Master requested of me from the start. Going out with nothing underneath my clothes in summer feels thrilling and cool, literally. If a breeze catches your skirt and travels upwards, it can be very pleasant and even arousing. Similarly being braless is comfortable, not just in summer but when sitting around the house relaxing. Kink of the week is about knickers, so here goes.

Functionality

There are times when wearing knickers is about being functional. For example, under jeans. I don’t find it particularly comfortable to be bare under my jeans and so will generally wear knickers underneath. Plus, I like them to be comfortable, so they will usually be something with a bit of substance rather than a G-string.

Speaking of which, while I own thongs and G-strings, I rarely wear them. They can be damned uncomfortable and don’t prevent chafing so you may as well go without.

When wearing leggings I tend not to wear anything underneath. Partly to avoid a VPL but also for comfort and practicality. No need for knickers in my opinion.

Mixing and matching

I own many pairs of knickers, a whole drawer full and I also have lots of bras. Most of them don’t match each other. While I change my knickers every day, I admit I don’t change my bras. Plus, the complicating factor of my recent mastectomy, means I can’t wear most of my bras right now. So I currently have 2 bras with matching knickers. So the chances of my underwear matching at the moment is slim.

For that special occasion I will make sure I am wearing something that matches, unless of course I am gong commando.

Naked under my clothes

As mentioned above, there was a time when I rarely wore underwear when we were together. Gradually that changed. Mainly for practical and comfort reasons of reasonably big boobs plus chafing during hot weather. In the winter if wearing tights, I may as well wear knickers too. What’s more, this winter, since I’m not working I tend to wear trousers, jeans or leggings most of the time.

But once the weather improves (and when I go on holiday) I plan to make a concerted effort to leave my knickers off. We have been discussing how to reintroduce some of those past rules now we are together all of the time. And this wouldn’t be a bad one to reintroduce. Not wearing a bra won’t be easy for now, but not wearing knickers will. Another resolution for 2019 perhaps.

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

Look into my eyes

I am not a great fan of intense eye contact in any context. But I do struggle with people who avoid it all together. I worked with someone once who would launch into long monologues at meetings and training events and simultaneously close her eyes as she did it. I found that distinctly unsettling, especially if she was sitting near me, or referring to something I had said. Some eye contact in a work or social situation is important. It helps you to know whether people mean what they say, if they are telling the truth or a lie. What is more, some people have very attractive eyes, ones that change colour depending on the situation.

When it comes to intimate moments including sex, I am a fan of closing my eyes. S is the only person I have encountered who seemed to stare when kissing or during sex. His gaze was piercing and at times unnerving. A little bit like the woman with the closed eyes. Of course I never kissed or had sex with her!

Master mostly closes his eyes too when we kiss. After almost 5 years we know each other well enough that we don’t need to keep our eyes open all of the time. But there are times when he will insist I open my eyes and look into his. This is particularly the case when he is in the process of forcing an orgasm from me.

As he counts me down and tells me to cum, he will insist I meet his gaze. I have to concentrate as I prefer to immerse myself in the orgasm rather than meet his eyes. But of course I do as I am told as I am (usually) a very good girl. So if he says – “Look at me when you orgasm” I do. He loves the power involved in making me do what I would rather not. I guess that is part of the Dominant hold he has over me and why I am his submissive.