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.

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.

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.

Resetting our relationship dynamic

All relationships change over time. After the first flush of excitement of a new relationship we settle into a routine. But over time, physical and/ or emotional needs will alter and this can lead to problems. One aspect of a power exchange relationship that is usually different from vanilla, is communication. For us, listening and watching for signs that things aren’t right has been fundamental.

The start

It’s nearly 6 years since Master and I got together. Those initial months were spent getting to know each other and working out the rules of our relationship. By that I don’t just mean those set our within our dynamic. But also the unwritten, unsaid stuff that makes you a couple. We didn’t live together, but gradually we began to spend most weekends together. Then to go out in the week if something came up.

Master bought me items of fetish clothing or new toys and introduced them for play and sex, and gradually there were changes to our dynamic. Going out without panties or a bra. Wearing sexier clothing or dressing up for him, was all new at the time.

The first reset came when Master decided to end his relationship with his primary slave. Before that we had assumed that our relationship would only survive in that form until his slave joined him from America. When we knew that wouldn’t happen, we settled into forming a more lasting connection.

A collar and commitment

Master collared me once we were both sure that we wanted to commit to each other. Also that we were free to do so, our previous relationships firmly in the past. Wearing his collar affirmed my status, to us but also to others. Other signs, such as my piercings came earlier, but it was the collar that signified his ownership. My slavery.

We have always led a busy social life, travelled and of course I was working. Reminding ourselves of the need to reset, to remember that we were Master and slave was necessary. Rules tended to slip. The submission that I had felt so keenly at the beginning often felt out of reach. Taking the time to talk about what we wanted and needed was important. But also finding time and energy for play was equally important.

That’s how we came to attend local Munches regularly and eventually get to a kink club for play. They provide a timely reminder of that aspect of our life.

Living together

We both assumed that when I moved in, we would at last get the opportunity to be the Master / slave that we had always imagined. To some extent that has been true. However we failed to factor in the changes that would occur due to my breast cancer.

In some ways being his slave allowed me to rely on Master in a way I might previously found intolerable. He wanted to care for me, but not smother me. Of course, that might be his personality. But equally the depth of communication between us helped at appointments and afterwards.

Looking back I see that the romantic idea of me being the sex and house slave of fiction was just that. Actually our relationship has rarely been about bondage, pain and nakedness, but instead control and ownership. It is he who makes the final decisions, and it is me who needs to be sure I am conducting myself in the way he prefers. I am now a kept woman and he has some financial control over me, though I do still have some money and spend it as I wish. But I don’t make large purchases without discussion. There are no secrets in this relationship, this is not a rule but it feels that having them would be wrong. A fundamental breach of what our relationship is about.

Our sex life is kinky, as it always was. Now though we have more time for sex. Our preference is in the morning, and we are in a fortunate position that we can indulge that. To outsiders we seem as we always have. We are a couple, partners. Adjustments from now will hopefully be small. But no doubt we will reset as we move on. I think that healthy relationships need that to continue.

tellmeabout

Birthday breakfast

We are spending the weekend away to celebrate both Master’s birthday and mother’s day. This morning we enjoyed a relaxing naked birthday breakfast in our room. Later, we’ll throw some clothes on and have lunch with my mum.

Sinful Sunday

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.

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. 

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

Power and glory

Apparently Master had an odd dream. This is nothing unusual, only last week he has travelled to China having been abducted on an underground train. In this dream though he was describing the different ways in which he and I fuck. Nothing odd about that, though he didn’t expand on the context. However it led him to thinking about the ways we have sex. This post is a reflection of the conversation we had. 

For him, there are two kinds of sex firstly where he has the power and is a dominant force and secondly where he feels the desire to breed me. For the purpose of this post I am calling glory.

Power

I would estimate that 70-80% of the time our sex life resolves around the power dynamic of our relationship. His role as Master and mine as slave is most evident in the bedroom, or playroom. It is always an undercurrent the rest of the time but is subtle. During sex though he says and does things that increase his feelings of power and that in turn brings out my submissive side. He might use humiliating words to describe me – bitch for example, or he may instruct me to kneel and suck his cock.

The more that I conform to his words, the fact that I ask and even beg for an orgasm, the way he can make me wait all make him feel more powerful. In this context I can feel myself drift into submission, how that feels is difficult to describe. It feels almost trance like, hypnotic. When he sees that slightly glazed look on my face, especially after several orgasms, his voice chances in tone. There is no doubt he is in control, has the power  over me.

If he orgasms he will often do so on my body somewhere; breasts or tummy. He will wipe his cock over my pubic hair as a final sign of his power. This will have been my prize.  

Glory

The sex described in my post yesterday falls into the second category. While some of the words spoken may be the same and there will be an overt power dynamic. But this will be about him burying his cock deep inside me, with the intention of breeding me. This of course is a fantasy. I am in my mid 50s and can’t be bred, I am post menopausal. But for him it feels real, a sign of his love for me. To me, it is ok, because if I had known him earlier in my life, there is a good chance I would have wanted a baby with him. 

This isn’t all about him though, he will still make me orgasm. His fingers will still be caressing me and his cock will rub against my piercing. But he will want his orgasm to occur with his cock deep in my vagina. I love when that happens, partly because it is less common. But also it feels like sex that is born of love not just dominance and submission. There is glory for both in that moment 

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

New realities

Yesterday, we had sex. Spur of the moment, lustful afternoon sex. 

In the morning we woke in a large, but slightly chilly hotel room. Breakfast was served till 10, so even though we were both randy as hell, we deferred. We showered together, he lathered my body with soap and caressed my breasts. He held me and kissed me and bent forward to take my right nipple in his mouth.

I am feeling mighty odd about my right breast. The bruise from the biopsy has faded, but is just visible. The hardness inside, the cancer, remains for the moment. I look at my breasts in the mirror and think that the right one has changed shape. Perhaps, maybe. I am scared that after the operation I won’t feel like me any more. worse that he won’t want this new me. These are stupid and crazy thoughts, but they are real.

He loves my breasts

He calls them jugs, they belong to him, along with the rest of me and he loves them. Over 4 years ago, while our relationship was still new, I had my nipples pierced, for him. Also though for me, and we both love those piercings. Yesterday he took some photos, in the hotel room. He said what I was thinking, that we need to take photos now, just in case. In case I need a mastectomy and it doesn’t look the same. We have lots of photos of my breasts, many of them are on this blog, but knowing what is about to happen means we want more.

After breakfast we set off to a nearby city and wandered around the cathedral. As I wandered around, looking at the beautiful architecture, the stained glass, the tombs of clerics from centuries ago. I was struck by the peace of the place and could see how people might turn to the church and religion in times of need. I don’t have that feeling myself, but found the environment some how reassuring. A place where the fog can clear and the future, whatever it brings be faced. 

When we got home we had sex

Not straight away. He went off into his office to attend to some admin and sort through photos. I sat reading blogs, catching up on Twitter and responding to comments on here. Suddenly, he appeared in front of me. He asked what I was doing and without really waiting for an answer he unzipped his trousers. Moments later I had his cock in his mouth, it tasted very good. Slightly salty, warm and hard. My cunt throbbed a little. His cock filled my mouth.

We went upstairs and stripped off. On the bed, he ran his fingers over my slick vulva and proclaimed that I was turned on too. Damn right I was. He pushed slowly but surely inside and my body welcomed him. I needed this, wanted to feel him, to know that he wanted me. He moved in and out with ease, my body opening up like magic. My head cleared as it had in the church and I concentrated on him, his cock and his fingers. 

This wasn’t an epic sex session. A couple of orgasms for me, a change of position and he was coming inside me. But it was pure in the moment, carnal desire. I needed to know he still fancied me and he does. And what is more, I fancy him too and I don’t think that will change. I just need to remember that when things get tough.