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.

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.

Feeling safe

This week’s Food for Thought prompt is Safewords or Words that make you feel safe. I wrote recently about safewords so am not going there again with this post. So, what words make me feel safe? Early in our relationship I wrote about the words we use within our relationship and what they mean to me, including how they make me feel safe. 5 years on it seems like time for an update.

During sex Master often provides a running commentary of what he is doing, what he wants to do and how it is making him feel. He also asks me questions designed to reaffirm to him that I am his slut, his slave, his bitch. The words he uses during those moments are part of the rituals of our sex life. They also make me feel very safe indeed.

This girl

Since the beginning of our relationship He has referred to me as girl, or more often ‘this girl’. The use of the third person, focuses me onto him and his needs rather than mine. Over time, it has become something of a pet name. It demonstrates to me that Master’s mind set is focused on our M/s dynamic and reminds me of who and what I am. His slave.

Pleasing bitch

The reference to my being his pleasing bitch often follows. There are times when I wonder about the title of my blog. But those words remind me once again about what my purpose is. To provide pleasure to him. During sex he will often refer to me as his pleasure bitch, which is what I am.

Lord and Master

I admit to being something of an unruly slave (his words) and not always massively respectful. But there are times when the need and desire to call Master my Master or Lord are very strong. During sex, when I am restrained and blindfolded during play, for example. You see this is a two way road. It isn’t just about who and what I am to him but who and what he is to me.

Of course he is also my love and when he tells me that he loves me. That he has never loved anyone like he loves me then I know this isn’t just about sex and BDSM. This man is my partner for life. And that makes me feel very safe indeed. I know that I love him too, more than words can express.

F4Thought

Girl

At what age do we leave our girlhood behind and instead become a woman. Adulthood for me was technically reached at 18, but in many ways I was still a girl. I hadn’t yet had sex, didn’t have many responsibilities and hadn’t yet voted in a general election. Emotionally I hadn’t fully developed and did so over the next 2 or 3 years. Older family members were used to 21 being the age when you were considered of age. I received many cards on my 21st birthday with keys on them. I was still 21 when I married my ex and took on a mortgage, a responsible job (qualified nurse) and all of the baggage that comes with it. During my 20’s I still considered myself a girl in many ways and then I became a parent and was definitely a woman.

Fast forward to 2014 and I met a man who insisted and still insists on calling me a girl. His girl. He also had me calling myself ‘this girl’.

When I started my blog in 2012, I referred to myself as Joolz and called the blog world of Joolz. S invariably called me Joolz and actually that had been something of a nickname during my teenage years. But Master felt Joolz was someone I had been. Now I was to be ‘this girl’.

Some quotes from my blog

New Dom would like me to refer to myself in the third person when i am in submissive role. He feels it will help me to explore my submission more and to hand more of myself to him (or something like that). At the same time i will call him Sir or Master, or as a further suggestion Lord. I nearly fell off my chair at that one and he wondered if i was being a little bratty! i expect i was, but i think that this girl will call Him Sir or Master rather than Lord!

15 Feb 2014

Who are you? He asked when she had given Him that huge orgasm and had on his instructions kept it coming.
Who was she?
This girl. she was this girl. she was also this slut, this bitch, this whore. She was His submissive. She is this girl.
He smiled. He loves the feeling of power this gives to Him. This girl likes to know that she had given herself, all of herself to Him. So much so, that at these moments she no longer has a name.

6 May 2014

If anyone had told me 9 months ago that I would again be anyone’s girl I would have laughed in their faces. Me, a 50 something year old woman, someone’s girl?
But now, not only do I like being His girl, but I love the fact that is what He calls me all of the time. What is more, I love to be in a place where where we are anonymous and where I can call Him Master, even in a public place.
The power and control He has over me, His girl is often subtle. So much so, that no one else can tell it is there. But right now, it is ever present, even as now from a thousand miles away.

28 October 2014
Reflections on being ‘this girl’

I know that many Dominant’s use the term girl to refer to their submissive. It has nothing to do with age play but does relate to the power dynamic.

Over the years, I have not only got used to being His girl but embrace it. When Master tells me to call myself ‘this girl’, he is reminding me of who and what I am. Sometimes I need that reminder.

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.

Control through sex

He pushed his cock in slowly, stretching the entrance to my tight hole. Once he had slid in a little, he withdrew allowing the tip to run across my piercing. The feeling as the hard cock slid back inside me was delicious, a little easier this time. 

For a few moments we were both silent as his penis slid in and out, each time brushing across my clit. “I love to do this” he said, stating something very obvious. “I love to use you like this, your cunt, my cunt. 

By way of a reply I wrapped my legs tightly around him just as he slid his cock back inside and held him there. “Squeeze me” he grinned. I obliged by tightening my pelvic floor muscles. “Mmm that is so good”.

“My party piece” I agreed. 

I slid my legs down the bed a little and he adjusted position and got himself into a fine rhythm, moving between them. Deeper with each movement until his balls were close to my vulva. “You’ve got a wide on” he exclaimed. No longer tight then, now fully open for him, while he in turn filled me to the brim. 

“You need this don’t you? You need me to use you like this, to control you”

“Yes Master, this girl does” 

And I do. 

I have written before about how vanilla our sex could look to a fly on the wall. So long as it was deaf. We are often in the missionary position and our sex is more often PIV. But we both get off on knowing he is in control, that he is using my body as he wishes. He tells me I am his cunt and it sends endorphins flooding to my clit, telling it to swell and throb. Then he puts a finger there and exclaims how turned on I am and of course immediately I could orgasm. 

Even when I get on top of him, he retains control. Of my movements, of the rest of my body and of course my orgasms. He tells me when to release and I do. No matter how many times I think I won’t come when he tells me, I still do. It is mighty weird, but I suppose I am as conditioned as Pavlov’s dog. His woman, his slave, his cunt. His bitch – MPB.

Masturbation Monday

SCC Writing prompt #164

The thing that always pulls me back into the submissive mindset is when Master refers to me as girl, rather than saying for example ‘you’ or using my given name (though to be honest he doesn’t often do that). I am always girl, or this girl, in bed and during a scene; it is my slave name. There are plenty of other names I am called – slut, bitch, cunt; but always girl. If Master reminds me that I should be referring to myself as ‘this girl’, well then that is enough to stop me dead in my tracks and to comply with his wishes. I have to admit I find it interesting that this is the case since I know well I am a woman, a middle aged woman, but to him I am girl; this girl. Of course if he should refer to me as ‘good girl’, well then I am in my element. A swooning submissive slave girl.

The collar is my real world trigger. It is made of titanium and so is not as heavy as a collar made of steel. There are times, whole hours worth of time, when I forget I have it on. I might catch sight of myself in the mirror and there it is plain as day. A sign of slavery, ownership; submission. Sometimes I wonder why the collar of my dress / shirt feels so heavy, and realise it is the collar. Then there are the times I wake with the collar in an odd position and think about the fact I am his slave. After 4 months or so of wearing the collar I can truly say that it continues to add to my feelings of submission. I love wearing it and love the fact that he and I know what it means and also that there are people out there who also know. I also like the fact that 99% of the people who encounter me during my daily life have no idea, most don’t even notice more than some chunky jewellery.

My go to remedy every time would be the butt plug. There is something about the cool metal slipping into the space where you feel nothing should probably be placed. The pressure that you need to apply to get it to ease past the tightness of the anal sphincter and the feeling as it pops into place. Then the feeling of fullness and the effect it seems to have on my general wellbeing. The way it relaxes me and helps me think about who and what I am. Plus, yes, the way it reminds me of what else finds its way into that very space. Master knows the effect the plug has on me, and will instruct me to insert it when he feels I am getting just that little bit bratty, anxious or both.

Being His girl

If anyone had told me 9 months ago that I would again be anyone’s girl I would have laughed in their faces. Me, a 50 something year old woman, someone’s girl?

But now, not only do I like being His girl, but I love the fact that is what He calls me all of the time. What is more, I love to be in a place where where we are anonymous and where I can call Him Master, even in a public place.

The power and control He has over me, His girl is often subtle. So much so, that no one else can tell it is there. But right now, it is ever present, even as now from a thousand miles away.

Last night during a text chat on messenger, He told me how pleased He was at the way I have coped with this weekend away with my mum. When He told me I was a good girl, I swelled with pride. I often feel I am unworthy of such praise, but am learning that when He says such a thing He means it. We moved on to talking about a planned night out I have with a friend later in the week. I expressed that I thought  I should cancel as I will probably be tired. He told me that he felt I should go, that I need such an outlet. He feels I need to see people and do things outside of my relationship with Him. Of course He is right and while He wasn’t saying I must go, the implication was just that.

That conversation had me thinking about what I have given up to Him – willingly I might add. I still make decisions, still go about my life in the same way. But at last I have someone who I am happy to have the last word. That is a big thing for me – I have a reputation for always wanting to have that final word. For wanting to be in charge, wanting to make the decisions in life. But not only do they not know the real me, but actually I am only just discovering who that me is.

This weekend it will be 9 months since our first meeting. It has been an eventful time, one of personal discovery for us both.

But while looking back is something we all like to do, to relieve the good times and avoid a repeat of the bad, looking forward is even better.

So, I look forward to being His girl into the future. That thought makes me feel very good indeed.

Sir’s girl

This is now written indelibly on the girl’s body, just above the little mound of hair she is growing for Sir. She will reapply the ink as it fades over the next few weeks.

Last evening Sir took this girl for His use. There was pain and orgasm.  He filled this girl’s holes and He fed her (and not just with food). He photographed the piercings that He owns.

They chatted, but at the same time, both were a little reflective. On His return, this girl wants to offer more of herself to Him and hopes He will take more control from her.

Tomorrow both Sir and this girl will be leaving the country, but to different places. This girl will be back on Monday and over the next few weeks, while Sir is away she will blog as she wants and needs.

Who are you?

This girl lay stroking His Cock while he played with her nipples. she had already orgasmed a number of times, giving him all that she had. She felt the need to cum rise up in her again and pressed herself against his leg. He told her to hold it. He began to count, not from 5 or 10 this time, but 20. All the time he played with her nipples, those very very sensitive pierced nipples. She let herself sink into her own subconscious. She stopped thinking, instead she listened to his voice, the counting. She was aware of his cock growing in her hand. She looked into his eyes. Just as she began to allow the orgasm rise in her at the count of 2 he said “one and a half”, but then 1 and CUM.

Who are you? He asked when she had given Him that huge orgasm and had on his instructions kept it coming.

Who was she?

This girl. she was this girl. she was also this slut, this bitch, this whore. She was His submissive. She is this girl.

He smiled. He loves the feeling of power this gives to Him. This girl likes to know that she had given herself, all of herself to Him. So much so, that at these moments she no longer has a name.

Sir doesn’t really think this girl is joolz any more. Not the joolz you read about earlier in this blog. she is inclined to agree. The changes have been subtle but they are visible all the same. Visible to this girl in her daily life. Visible to Sir when he talks to her, when they are out and about together. Perhaps they are less visible to the outsider but increasingly this girl feels her submission during her every waking hour. She seeks and finds a calmness that wasn’t there before. He says she is still a very different person when dealing with family matters, perhaps that is true, but this girl can feel a shift in the way she wants to handle that part of her life. She needs to feel this calmness much more. And she knows she will.

This blog is still called “The world of Joolz”. Yesterday,  I was doing a little bit of tidying up on the front page, rewriting some of the text in the side bar. I was tempted to change the name of the blog. I don’t feel like Joolz any more. However, its what others know me as, though some of you also know me as Julie. Plus, what does the name of the blog actually matter? Plus, if at times I have no name then it matters even less. What matters is who I belong to, and that part is pretty clear.