The collar is never off

Two new memes started this week. Quote Quest run by Little Switch Bitch (I plan to write for that in my next post) and No True Way, run by Lillith Avir. The first prompt for Lillith’s meme is: Whether worn or not, the collar is never off.

Master gave me my collar in July 2015. Before that I had worn a chunky chained bracelet with a lock as well as various leather collars during play. The symbolism of this collar, made of titanium and locked in place by means of a tiny screw felt different. But not just because you need a screwdriver to be able to take it off.

What the collar signifies

First and foremost it means ownership. His of me. It tells me and others that I am his. That I have committed myself to him. I like to wear it and have rarely removed it except for medical stuff. It doesn’t set the alarms off at the airport, much to the surprise and disappointment of border staff.

At events and munches it prevents people making a move on me (though I’m not clear they would anyway). So, it gives me a sense of security, but also pride. I wouldn’t be wearing his collar if I wasn’t proud to do so.

The collar is never off

My collar is a symbol of something that I don’t actually need a collar to know. You see, whether I actually have it around my neck or not, I’m still his owned property. I like to feel it there, a cool presence, but I don’t need it to be there.

I know that I am Master’s slave, his slut. I know what his expectations of me are and I know how to please him. There is no need to be wearing a physical symbol to know those things. But I’ve struggled with my submission a little more than usual recently and I’ve found the collar has helped.

When I’m not wearing it I miss it. From September 2018 to February 2019 I couldn’t wear my collar as much as I’d like. Just at a time when to be honest I needed the safety and security of it being there. But that was partly because the reason for removing it was medical stuff. Scans, surgery and then radiotherapy. Putting it back on in February 2019 was a joy.

It feels like I’ve contradicted myself in this post

Which of course I have. I really don’t need a collar to tell me I am Master’s slave and property. But I like the reassurance of it being there. It gives me reassurance and affirms everything I already know. In truth the collar is never really off but I actually don’t want to physically do so.

Being this girl

I'm sitting on the grass with one leg under the other. You can see I'm not wearing panties.

In many ways being this girl is like being someone else. Someone that exists only to be his and to serve. That was likely the purpose of the exercise, as described in this post. Julie was (and is) a strong minded individual. Caring, loving and devoted to loved ones. Hard working and tenacious. All useful qualities but ones that made it difficult to let go. Julie wanted to please, but had a tendency to try to please the wrong people, to allow herself to be used. That’s how this girl came to be.

Then

When Master first broached the idea Julie truly thought he was crazy. This wasn’t something she had experience of, hadn’t even read about. But after a bit of reflection she decided to give it a go. Speaking the words out loud were and still can be hard. After all the word I is a frequent part of our daily language. Surely only weird people refer to themselves in the third person. It turns out that weird people and submissive’s instructed to do so by their Dominants. Try saying it…..”First this girl did this and then she did that” or “Please can this girl come” (the second is probably the most uttered phrase of our relationship). It took some getting used to (both asking and asking in that way.

The key thing that being this girl has done though is to enable her to let go of Julie, to just be a slave. To live in the moment. This was particularly the case during challenging times with the ex and with family. A release from responsibilities at the end of a working week. An opportunity to focus. To be able to come home from work, to change and to speak aloud as your slave self. It was like layers of skin peeling off of an onion to reveal something fresh and new.

If you don’t use the words I or me, then it is easier to request something taboo. To ask to be humiliated or degragated, because it removes the focus from you as an individual. Instead you become a toy, or play thing. An object. So, Julie was able to become property, a thing to be used and played with. A slave with no other purpose than to provide pleasure to her Master.

Now

Of course things were fresh and new right then. We didn’t live together and so our focus when we were alone in a private place was each other. There was a point sometime during 2017 that preparations began for Julie to move in with Master. We began work on decluttering and preparing the house to be sold. Then after the move in 2018 there was a period of settling in and then breast cancer. All of this caused things to change, just a little.

As I’ve said before, this girl is still present in the bedroom. It feels easy these days to slip into the role of slave for those moments. But that’s where the problem lies. Although this girl is still present within Julie, she doesn’t appear often enough. Submission often feels a little further away than it used to and I (deliberate use of this pronoun) don’t know how to get her back. Do I want to? Yes, I do. Being this girl makes me feel safe (not to say that I’m not). She is a big part of my life and I love the feeling she gives me. But these things have to be worked at and it will take two of us to do so. I have the feeling we ought to give it a go.

There’s nothing wrong with our relationship, it just feels different. This was always going to happen because life happens. But maybe it’s time to rethink this Master / slave relationship. This slave needs it.

Love and life right now

Covid-19 Virus Coronavirus - Free image on Pixabay

Deep down I knew that the Coronavirus lockdown would last for months rather than weeks. But that doesn’t mean to say that I was emotionally prepared for it. Back in those early days at the end of March we were busy with home projects. During much of April we had good weather so eating lunch in the garden or on our balcony was a regular thing. We are used to spending lots of time together, so there was nothing new. Anyway, I was planning to be out a bit working. Then last week it was cold and wet, our projects were stuck and the work opportunity vanished. For a few days I felt without purpose and just plain miserable. I know Master feels it too. But I and we are fighting back. Below are my thoughts on the past 7 weeks detailing different parts of our love and life.

Getting things done

Over the winter we finally started to sort the house out. When I moved in nearly two years ago there was a lot of clutter which meant insufficient room for many of my things. I have my office which was completed last summer and so have my books there. But much of my treasured possessions remain in the garage and a lot of clothes are in boxes under the bed. So, where to start?

Master’s books were stacked everywhere in the living and dining room. So much so that I’ve never eaten at the dining table in this house. So I suggested the place to start was in those rooms. Progress was rapid and before Christmas we had specialist shelving installed on one side of both rooms. Then in March (after we’d finished decorating) the shelving was complete. I ordered new blinds for the windows and imagined we’d soon be straight.

But we have 7 or 8 empty bookshelves waiting to move and nowhere to put them. The household recycling centre closed in March and so we were stuck. Then the factory making my blinds closed and we had already thrown out the rails and curtains. I did manage to paint the hallway and want to continue into the kitchen, but we have nowhere to put the kitchen contents.

There is light at the end of the tunnel now because the recycling centres start reopening next week. I’m feeling hopeful that the blinds might be made soon too. I need to feel that we can get things done and make our enforced time at home worthwhile. Right now I feel more hopeful about that than I’ve done to date.

Lethargy

On the whole we have retained much of the structure of our life. Neither of us is working (we’ve both taken early retirement) so we don’t need to be up early, but I am a bit of an early bird. Master on the other hand is something of a night owl. I have learned over the past couple of years not to leap out of bed too early and having me around has encouraged him up sooner. We also have a more structured bed time than he previously had.

Our life is usually quite busy though. We go out to lots of cultural events – concerts, galleries, exhibitions and festivals. So, when there is nothing in the diary you need more than an occasional food shopping trip to make it feel worth getting up and going for.

At times we have both been filled with energy and enthusiasm to do things and at others not. Funnily enough not at the same time. I think this might be a good thing, because being lethargic together means we both struggle to do anything at all. We’ve tried to encourage each other on, but at times the frustration shows. We don’t argue often but when we do it isn’t pleasant. This week we’ve had late night arguments twice, something I’d like to avoid going forward.

Work

Having announced to the world I was going back to nursing, I embarked on induction and training in my own time. Then just as I thought I was about to be let loose on the world they decided they didn’t really need me. Well they haven’t said that but that’s the implication. I have uniforms in my wardrobe and PPE in my car. Both will be returned if nothing happens, but it has made me feel really fed up.

Thankfully a new opportunity has arisen, which is to help with the contact tracing that will be needed to loosen lockdown. This work will definitely happen and I have a paid training shift in my diary and have some work shifts booked too. It is also a bit more money than the original work. This job will mean working from home, so no need for uniform or PPE. Plus, I think this is going to be a really worthwhile job that will need to continue for some time.

Master on the other hand has no intention of going back to work. Instead he is managing our financial affairs which took a bashing in March. Thankfully they are recovering with a few changes. Secondly he is rewriting a wikipedia page for a Spanish author and poet and that’s keeping him busy. Now the books are organised on shelves he has a veritable library to consult. His other project is to map Covid across a number of countries as he prefers his own charts and graphs. These things will help us both going forward I think because we have no idea when we can do the things we want out of the house or travel.

Love and sex

It would be safe to say that neither of us have much in the way of an active libido right now. We’ve had good sex, but not frequently and we haven’t played at all. It’s strange but at a time when we are unable to touch others we aren’t really touching each other much either. I’m not sure why that is. Both of us are making a conscious effort to instigate touch, often when we sit together in the evening. At night Master will put a hand on me, especially if I’ve been snoring. There have been a few hugs, but I feel we need to make an effort to do more.

I’ve written some sexy posts and read some sexy and erotic books and blog posts. But it has been hard to transfer those feelings to our own life. I’m hoping that we can find a way to prioritise those things. Longer days and warmer weather will help as will being active independently of each other during the day times.

Moving forward

I know we are lucky. We are together, haven’t taken a drop in income (other than our long term savings, but they will recover) nor do we need to homeschool any children. But that doesn’t mean that we find the current situation easy. We have mourned the loss of the life we had and don’t know when or if we will get all of it back. I’ve been sad to see former colleagues losing their colleagues, team or organisation members. I’ve also hated the decisiveness of the recent arguments in the sex blogging community. All of this takes its toll.

So, going forward I hope we can soon restart our work in the house. I also have some plans for the garden, since I’ll be here and so can actually grow some stuff. Flowers and also one or two vegetables. Fingers crossed the planned work comes to fruition this time and that we can regain a little of the structure we had lost. I hope that we’ll be able to go out places and walk more as we get to summer. At present a lot of woodlands etc. are open but you can’t park.

As for sex, well I plan to try to make more of an effort because I think my libido is more suppressed than Masters, partly because of my medication. But I would love him to do so too. I don’t feel terribly submissive a lot of the time and know we need to work on this too. But I do feel we can, I do feel hopeful and just a bit positive right now.

Sexual Service

I am kneeling over the sofa. Wearing only a top. My arse and labia are visible and exposed.

I am a sex slave. My role to Master is to provide him with sexual service when he requires it. But also to be ready for him to use me when he wishes. This post is a work of fiction based on a limited amount of reality but mostly reading, fiction and non fiction.

My word of the day is RULES. Every day Master texts me a word or occasionally phrase while we are both at work. At the weekends, if we are home he tells me the word. Corner time is at 4pm which is shortly after I arrive home. I remove my clothes and then kneel on the floor in a corner of our room on a carefully placed pillow. Knees wide, back straight and hands behind my head. The purpose is for me to concentrate on my word while naked and vulnerable. To think about the meaning of the word and it’s relation to my service.

I know the rules by heart. I know that the key purpose of my role as Master’s sex slave is to be his slut and to provide him with sexual service. The rules are in place to make sure I do just that.

Rule number 1

I shall always be available for his use. This means that I do not wear underwear unless he says I should. In effect this means wearing a bra at work. At home I am often naked, unless we expect visitors or it is very cold. I also wear an apron when cooking. There is a certain vulnerability to never wearing panties, especially when I am aroused or hot. I often think others can small my cunt, though no one has ever mentioned it. When sitting I am not to cross my legs, often Master will tell me to sit with them wide open, even when we are out. This can be humiliating, but also a massive turn on.

When he decides I am to provide sexual service, to be used, which is most days, I must thank him. I beg him to use my holes, to come inside my slut body. Or, of course outside if he wishes. Whichever I thank him for the gift of his come.

Rule number 2

I am not allowed to touch my cunt nor come without permission. However Master tells me to touch myself often for his pleasure. This is fine when we are home alone together, less easy when we are out or have people over. Often when we are out eating dinner I will have been instructed to play with my clit. To bring myself close to climax, to edge. One hand on my fork and another on my lap, or so you may think. Other times it will be his fingers that stroke and tease. He studies me closely, watching my cheeks grow pink. He’ll then make me come when we get into the car, there in the car park or by the side of the road.

I am able to control my orgasms quite well, even when he uses the wand on me. But I really have to focus, to concentrate on my submission and remember that he is the owner of my body and my orgasms. He takes great pleasure in making me come the moment he demands. I don’t know how he does that!

Rule number 3

He is known to me as Master or Lord and I am this girl, slut or slave depending on his desires. I understand the meaning of this. I am nothing but the name Master choses to call me. Of course I have a name at work or when with family or vanilla friends. But always I know that I am property. His and his alone. He is my Lord and Master. I worship him and await his need to use me. That isn’t to say that I am not loved, cherished and cared for. Sometimes I am his pet, often his lover. He takes care of me, cooks for me, takes me to lovely places and buys me things. That he owns me is calming, reassuring. It makes me feel safe, wanted. His.

Rule number 4

I have a number of daily tasks, these sometimes change. Each morning I suck his cock if required. I also stand or sit in the shower or bath while he pees on me. I can’t say I enjoy it but I am used to it. It is warm and I have come to appreciate the feeling. I find it arousing, indeed humiliation to me is a massive turn on. After a shower and I have shaved my pussy, legs and underarms, I insert the plug he has chosen for me. This is worn for 2-3 hours so is removed in the bathroom at work. I dress in the way he wishes, often looking quite demure from the outside.

Throughout the day we keep in contact. Be both have busy and demanding jobs, but text a few times. There is usually a photo for me to take and send though.

Rule number 5

I kneel and present myself when Master arrives home

My working day is until 3pm. This fits in well with my sexual service duties and also those around the house. As mentioned above I spend half an hour in quiet contemplation before moving on to any house work and meal preparation. That’s not to say Master doesn’t do his fair share of house work etc. Because he does. He is particularly responsible for food shopping and this is one area where I tell him what might be needed.

Master texts me as he leaves work or the shops and I then prepare for his homecoming. This is a special time for us both. I kneel in the living room and wait in readiness for him. He greets his slave and inspects my body and asks for details of my day. Then he goes to change while I start dinner or put things away. Then he will open wine and we’ll often share the cooking chores.

There was a time when I would spend the evening at his feet while we watched TV or played music and chatted. But now I’m that bit older the sofa has become a better place to be, for us both.

Our evenings tend to be like most other peoples. Except I am usually naked and he is likely to be stroking some part of his property or making me suck his cock as he feels appropriate. Often we will retire to the play room where Master will restrain his slave and torture me. Pain and pleasure are such amazing bedfellows.

This is the life I chose

When we met, I quickly learned what life would be like if we came together as a couple. Master and slave. He was clear that it was a sex slave he desired. One he could use for his pleasure, whether sex or play. We discussed and wrote down our kinks and fetishes. On the day of our collaring ceremony I gave myself willingly to him. My limits are now his. Most decisions (outside work and my family) are his. The body that belonged to me is now his, as are the orgasms and control. He has total power over me and this is the life I chose. My role is to provide sexual service to my Lord.

Used and Vanilla Family Life

I’m behind with the Blogging A-Z but determined to catch up and finish. So, I’m covering another two topics today. These are really polar opposites to each other. There are just two categories on my blog beginning with U, the other being Underwear. Vanilla Family Life is the only one beginning with V.

Used

This category denotes the times I am and have been used for Master’s pleasure. He’ll say “I need to warm myself up inside you” For example. Or will instruct me to kneel and suck his cock. Instructions and commands actually turn me on. I like to be used and to be of service to him. It puts me in to my submissive state and reaffirms that I am his slave.

Our libido has been low this past few weeks. So the times I have been used sexually have reduced. There are also days when we both have things we want or need to do. But I always know that he can decided this is the moment, at any time. Our sex usually takes place in the morning, this is the best time for him. If we have sex at night it’s usually because we’ve both had a drink or 5. At those times I really am at my most submissive, but memories tend to be hazy the next day. So, mornings are best for sexual use.

Vanilla Family Life

There have been times during the life of this blog that I have had nothing sexy or kinky I’ve wanted to talk about. Times when I’ve needed to concentrate on family more than I’d probably like. Other times there have been family events – weddings, Christmas etc, that I’ve talked about on here.

I made a decision at the beginning of the blog that I would write about anything that took my fancy. That I’d use it as a kind of journal. So that means you get a variety of information out of me. I find it useful to write about different things and then later to be able to look back and see what I had to say. No doubt this category, though not used very frequently will continue to be a feature.

This girl – speaking in the third person

It was a way of getting me to settle into my new role, as His submissive. Very soon after we got together, Master asked me to use the third person when referring to myself. At first I thought he was joking. But, no he wasn’t. He suggested I use one of the following: this one or this girl. I wrote last year about being called a girl at the age of 50 something and how strange that felt. This girl was a step on from that, but it is what I chose.

For a time on this blog I wrote in the third person. I did it to get used to referring to myself in that way. I stopped because not every post lends itself to being written in the third person. Plus it wasn’t an expectation. There are plenty of times, face to face though when I refer to myself as this girl. He pretty much always calls me girl or this girl.

Where does it come from?

As far as I can see, third person speak in this context comes from the Gorean Lifestyle. Within this culture, the Master has total control over the slave, who in turn has given herself (and it is usually a her) to be owned property. An object to be used as the Master sees fit. The slave girl has no rights, not even to her own name. At the same time the Master cherishes his slave and trains and nurtures her natural femaleness, so she emerges into her true slave.

There is nothing Gorean about our relationship or lifestyle. But Master’s desires for a slave he can own and possess appear rooted in these ideals. At the beginning of the relationship, giving up my given name when with him did help me to let go of external constraints to submission.

How speaking in the third person influenced the development of our relationship

On returning from a short break away together when for several days I had referred to myself as this girl, I wrote.

The difference between Julie, the career woman, mother, daughter and estranged wife and joolz the submissive was greater than it has ever been. Ever!

31st March 2015.

I had learned to let go. To trust another person to take full control of me. One by one he took decision making from me and somehow peeled away the layers I had built up over the years. It is strange to look back now on the person I was, the one who always had to be in charge and control. Referring to him as Sir and myself as this girl was a large part of that process. Because every time you open your mouth to say something, you have to consider your words very carefully. Every time you do something you think about whether you are doing something that is for his pleasure. That was the start of my journey to becoming his slave.

This girl now

She still exists, though it is not overtly evident. Not all of the time anyway. Most days I do consider my slave self. Think of this girl and reflect. I tend to hold my collar when doing it. We don’t have rituals or rules as such. Everything is embedded. I generally know how to behave and what he expects of me. In my head I often think of myself not as Julie but this girl.

To him, that is exactly who I am. He only calls me by my given name when referring to me to others.

But the third person speech is only heard in the bedroom or during play. It naturally flows from my tongue during those times. At the same time it invigorates him and shows him where the power lies in our dynamic.

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.