Thoughts on kneeling

I am hooded and kneeling, hands on the floor. I am wearing a collar and leash and am naked.

I’ve written a few times about kneeling, that well known symbol of submission. There are also a few images of me doing so, including the one above. That one is in a particular context that doesn’t happen often. But in this post I wrote about some of the practical issues and believe me they are real. Nearly 4 years have passed since then and I’m closer to 60 than 50. Plus medication following my breast cancer treatment has led to stiffer joints.

But I do like to kneel from time to time. There is no doubt that kneeling before Master, especially if he is clothed and I naked will always be special. It definitely does something to my head. It seems weird to say so, but it really does make me feel more submissive. I love when he reaches down and touches my hair, or when he holds my head still as I suck his cock.

In the main our symbols of submission are less overt these days. When I wrote that and other posts about kneeling we didn’t live together. Kneeling was one of those rituals that helped centre me and us back into our roles as dominant and submissive. But these days we are together pretty much all the time. In fact just a hand on my bottom, or a pull on my collar are sufficient.

However I plan to continue to kneel when it feels right or he demands it. I tend to need a cushion to kneel on and a hand to get up. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to do so nor does it mean I won’t. I’d just prefer not to kneel too much. Luckily he doesn’t tend to demand it often. which I guess makes it that bit special when he does and I do.

This post is linked to No True Way. Click below to see who else has written about kneeling this week.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

The ceremonies of life

When I was slimmer my collar was a little big. I’d be happy if it was like this again!

Christenings, weddings, funerals and graduations have all been the ceremonies of my life. Christmas, even though I don’t go to church is a ceremony of its own. Over the years I’ve enjoyed them all. I still look back with fondness to my own wedding. I loved the day, being centre of attention. happy and in love. Marriage was much less fun than planning the wedding and living through the day.

Formal ceremonies

My favourite ceremonies with and for others though have been the ones involving my son. His christening at 6 months old, cute in his sailor suit. Family enjoying a sunny September afternoon in our garden. His school events, plays, nativity, fetes they were all ceremonial in their own way. The graduation – my son all grown up and smart in his gown, on the cusp of proper adult life. Then last Christmas his wedding. A really small and intimate affair, so different from my nuptials. A day though filled with laughter and a bride and groom who did things their own way. I loved every minute of that as much, if not more than my own.

His wedding allows me to concentrate on myself and my life with Master. I feel that the wedding ceremony is part of a bigger event. That he is now part of a new family, his own. One that will grow as, hopefully they have children in the future.

Collaring

This was a ceremony I didn’t expect to write about. But on the day that Master collared me, his slave I committed to him. Though this was not in front of other people. to bear witness, we made vows to live our lives in a certain way. I agreed to wear his collar, to be obedient and to provide service. In return he agreed to care for me and to be the best owner he could be.

4 years later and we have pretty much stuck to the vows we made to each other that night. Until I had surgery and then radiotherapy, I had rarely removed my collar. That titanium ring means as much to me as the ring I wore on my finger before.

However I do have the urge for another ceremony. I would like to affirm our commitment to each other in public, in front of my son, his wife and other very close family. But first I need to get round to divorce, get myself a new boob and make some plans. But it is something that hopefully we will do.

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

Commitment

What to right about for C? The two obvious contenders were control and collar, but I have written about both recently. Then I thought about contract, so I went looking for posts about our contract and found only two. Then it struck me that the key word for today should be commitment. In June 2015 I wrote this:

It would be true to say that all the time she has been seeing Master things have gradually evolved. To begin with, the knowledge that this was likely to be a short term relationship played on this girl’s mind. This meant she tried to be mindful of her place in His life and the place of the person who was His primary slave. No long term plans were made, and this girl did her best to live by the day. The piercings were something she wanted and she paid for, plus they are only as permanent as you wish them to be. While no specific limits were put in place, neither this girl nor Master pushed for anything that suggested a long term commitment.


But now, we both acknowledge that what we have now is different. This girl says that we acknowledge it, but actually it hasn’t been discussed. The fact is that:
There is no other person
We plan our lives around each other
We are increasingly think of each other before anything is planned
Kinky discussions indicate that this girl has given all control to Master and that this is not just about the bedroom


What has changed is that:
This girl is willing to admit now that the piercings belong to Master and always did
Increasingly she wishes to make no decisions other than those relating to her work and her family
She is willing to cut her hair to His requirements and in the future will consider shaving her head
She is willing to open up their relationship in whatever way He sees fit
She wants a tattoo that will signify His ownership
She wants to wear His collar and wear it 24/7
She recognises her status as His 24/7 slave, whether they are together or not
She thinks of herself as this girl, an owned, registered slave
This girl wonders if it is time to review the contract agreed last year and for this girl to agree some new rules?

Reflections on commitment and the post above

At that time I wrote my blog in the third person. Early in the relationship Master ‘suggested’ that if, when we were alone together I did so then it would help me with my submission. To be able to do that I wrote my blog posts in the third person too.

Master gave me, and we agreed, a contract in the summer of 2014. But at the time he was still involved in another M/s relationship. So things felt temporary. That didn’t mean I ignored the rules but I didn’t imagine it would turn into a serious commitment to each other.

By summer 2015 though, things were different. My role as his slave was no longer something that I did at weekends and on holiday. Instead it was who I was (and am) all day every day. It was also when Master presented me with his collar, something I have worn most days since. This symbol of what I meant to him was an important marker for both of us. It signified he had no intention of looking elsewhere (except for play) and that he wanted to take care of me. The collar felt like a safety net, something that freed me from the rest of the world.

By making a commitment to each other in this way we were able to start to plan for a life when we could be together all of the time. But also, as seen in the post above, I declared I was ready to be the slave he wanted. Power and control are important elements of our M/s relationship. That I would modify my body and hair for him was an indicator that I was serious and that I recognised that this is not a game. It is our real life.

Most people don’t know what the collar means. But when they meet us they can see we are a couple and that we are committed to each other. At their peril do people try to come between us since we are something of a force to be reckoned with.

Collars

Collars have been a feature of our relationship from the beginning. A sign of ownership, even before he truly owned me. They were a symbol of his power and control over me. To begin with though, the collars Master gave me to wear were meant for play. I would put one on at the beginning of a session and take it off after. Now, I wear a titanium collar all of the time and would only remove it to wear a play collar or jewellery. With permission. One of the worst things about my recent surgery was the need to go without my collar for over a week.

Collars for play and show

I encounter many people at Munches and events that don’t wear a collar every day. Instead they wear them as part of their outfit for that day. And there are some great leather and metal collars to be seen. People’s acceptance and willingness to wear say a dog collar is partly due to them being such a fashion accessory. But also because so many people in the BDSM community like to wear some kind of neck attire. 

I have two types of leather collars and have never worn them out of the house. In a previous relationship, I wore a dog collar a couple of times when out, but felt very self conscious. I love the idea of the posture collar and they are great to wear, for a while. They don’t look great, when like me you have a double chin. But those collars are good at helping me into some kind of sub space. 

Collars as a sign of Ownership 

In July 2015 Master presented me with a metal collar and I have worn it most days since. Made of titanium, it is locked onto my neck with an allen key. While many people I know, like to wear something more discreet, like a necklace, I am happy with my collar. Very few people have asked me about it and after 3 years everyone is used to me wearing it. If they know the meaning or significance they aren’t letting on. I suspect they don’t. Anyway, I have a theory that people aren’t particularly observant of others and instead are often wrapped in their own lives. 

For us, my collar is an important symbol of our relationship as Master and slave. For him, it signifies that I have given myself, body and soul to him. While wearing it I am his property to do with as he wishes. It provides me with security and the knowledge that he will care for me. 

Taking it off for surgery and recovery period didn’t mean that I stopped being owned or being his slave. But there was something very special for us both when I put it back on after my wound drain was removed. I expect to have to take my collar off for radiotherapy, but hopefully that will just be a daily ritual to have the treatment. 

One day, there may be a ring. But it would never have more significance to us than my collar. 

Blogging A-Z 2018: H

This is the third year that I have participated in Blogging A-Z. This year i am going to try to make my topics a little more mainstream. They will, however clearly link to kink and may on occasion be NSFW.

H is for His

He cals her girl. This girl; His girl
He is her Master, her Lord and she His slave
She is His slut, His cum puppy. He controls her orgasms, they belong to Him; His.

He is her owner and she His property
People may find this difficult to understand but for her this is fact. She is His to love, to hold and to control.

Her body is pierced for His pleasure; nipples and clitoris. Her pleasure is His to have, to hold and to control.
She wears a collar, His collar. This is a sign of her slavery of His ownership, that she is His property.

She is His Bitch, Master’s Pleasing Bitch