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!

I am, because we are

It is a coincidence that as I walked home yesterday I was thinking about this topic. Wondering about who I am now as we enter the 7th year of our life together. Wondering whether I am worthy as his submissive and partner. I came to the conclusion that we are where we are because of who we are, together. So, some background.

Last weekend was the 6th anniversary of the day we met in person. This year we celebrated by going out for dinner. We often eat out, but usually it’s because we are doing something away from home and dinner out is easier. This was a meal out for itself.

Today I received notice that the first part of my divorce, the decree nisi will be heard in court in March. 6 weeks and one day later I will be divorced. My entire blog catalogues my own journey to this point. In many ways I am the person I was at the beginning, but of course events have changed me. Plus taking on the role of slave and starting a new long term relationship has added to that.

The person I was

Confused, probably sums it up. As I approached my 50th birthday I knew change was needed. My life wasn’t going as it should and I wanted something different. Trouble was I didn’t know what that different was or how to go about getting it. I consider my self lucky that the two men I met along the way helped guide me towards discovering what that might be. The fall out from my ex was hard to bear. Last week while reading some old posts from 2013 to link to my privacy post I came across some very disturbing writing.

My husband was playing me. I know that now since at the time he was already in another relationship (still unknown to me). But meanwhile he manipulated me and made me feel I was beyond dreadful for cheating on him. He made me sleep deprived by turning up early in the morning and then he snooped through my emails and was generally horrible. All the time I cooked meals for him if he decided to be home. Made sandwiches and did his washing. YES, I actually did those things. I was a complete doormat. I now know I should have kicked him out and changed the locks. But that’s with the benefit of hindsight.

The person I am

From the beginning of my relationship with Master things changed. He listened to me and helped me work out how to navigate the way ahead. I didn’t always to what he suggested to begin with. But usually there was some method in his ideas. His own other relationship was messy and so we worked through those times together. Sometimes that meant just being there for each other. I know there were times when he felt less dominant for it, but this was a human need not about power exchange dynamics. Not many months after we met my father became terminally ill and died. The support Master provided during that time set the scene for the kind of partner he would be.

Running parallel to all of those more intimate and personal elements of our relationship is the kink. Power, Dominance, submission, kinky sex and play. Over the years we have learned what is our norm. The things that feel safe and right. But we have also pushed each other to try new things.

For a very long time we played in the privacy of our own home and occasionally in a privately hired dungeon. It was also a while before we ventured to Munches and in the end it was through talking to people at those events that drew us to play events. Then recently we started meeting up with some people we met at one of those. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that often I’d prefer to stay at home. Well until I’m there that is. But that is also true of attending vanilla events even with friends.

Am I submissive enough? Is he dominant enough?

These were my thoughts as I listened to some podcasts while travelling yesterday (details below). My idea of submission at the beginning of this journey was based on erotica and other blogs. Training plans for submissives, men with dungeons in their basements, kneeling naked etc. It isn’t like that. For obvious reasons. But when Master tells me I’ve been bratty, I do stop and think. When he tells me to kneel and suck his cock I do it. When he asks me if I’ve achieved the things in my planner, I do reflect. And when he tells me his is proud of the person I glow with pride.

He has helped me become the slave he wants, but also I have helped him to become the dominant I need. Our life together is the one we have made together and it isn’t like anyone else’s I’m sure. But it occurs to me that we are who we are and I am the person I am because of us.

At some point soon, I am going to draw a line on some of the past. We share enough history on this blog not to need to go back further. The posts will remain but they will be archived from view. They are not ones that are retweeted anyway. Time to move on.

Thoughts generated from the following podcasts

Master's plaything

This would have been a great image for this objectification post from last week. But I wanted to save it for February Photofest. I’m not really sure why this hasn’t been featured before, but really happy to include it now. This was also taken at the secret Dungeon

As you can see my nipples are clamped, plus there is the hood and lead. I was definitely Master’s plaything that night!

Submitting

This week’s February Photofest theme is all about our kinks. My photos will highlight some of the fun times we’ve had both at home and some of the privately rented dungeons we’ve stayed in.

This image of me kneeling in submission was, I think taken at the secret dungeon. It was taken a few years ago, but hasn’t been seen on my blog before. I’ve entitled this submitting. Photo taken by Master.

Submissive training – is it necessary?

This prompt for Tell Me About has had me thinking for a few days. It is common to see information about ‘training your submissive’ in BDSM manuals and guides. Submissive training is also a big thing in fiction, for example the Brie series by Red Phoenix which is set in a training centre for submissive females. I can’t deny that I found the books extremely hot when I read them a few years ago. But is submissive training actually necessary for someone in a D/s or M/s relationship? And if so, what might it comprise of?

Submissive – born or made?

I don’t think you can train someone to actually be a submissive as such. It is something that comes from within, almost a need. However I do think there are elements of submission that take time to emerge. Reading about different types of relationship and considering what you as a submissive might want from them is useful. Understanding the elements of BDSM and what you, as a submissive want to find out more about, or try. Each dominant will have their own way of doing things and have ideas about how they wish the relationship to play out. Whether this takes the form of training, conditioning or something else is debatable.

Training vs education and learning

In a previous life I was education lead for a group of public sector organisations. I organised learning and development courses, bought places on university courses and was in charge of mandatory training. I hated the word training, though was forced to use it. That’s because without an element of educational learning behaviour can’t change. Maybe you can train a dog to fetch something, but we don’t generally do that with humans.

Learning new skills, understanding about consent and safety, finding someone in real life to help mentor as well as reading fiction and factual accounts of a dominant submissive lifestyle seems a good approach. I guess some dominants may train their submissives as they would a dog but I’m not sure that is a good approach. Even teaching positions, kneeling or preparation for anal sex should be about more than just practical training. Knowledge of your own body, elements of safety and learning from others is vital.

How did I learn to be the slave I am today?

Back at the beginning I found all I could about submission and BDSM in general through the internet. I joined forums and information sites and followed links to blogs. Then I read erotic novels and bought a couple of ‘how to’ books written by those with experience of the lifestyle. But it wasn’t until I got together with S that I began to understand what might be involved in a D/s relationship. Unfortunately that was when I realised I had a romantic view of being a submissive. However on the plus side I also discovered that I enjoyed pain, humiliation and degradation. By the end of that relationship, I had a better knowledge of what I wanted.

When I first met Master I was under the impression that I knew everything there was to know about being a submissive. But Master is a different kind of Dominant to S (as you’d expect). So I had to begin to learn how to be Master’s submissive. Bed room and play room stuff is easy in comparison to learning what they want from you as a person. It has been elements of my behaviour that have changed. This hasn’t happened through training but through reflection and communication. What’s more, we have learned together how to be each others Master and slave. And from that has come trust.

Reading and blogging as a learning tool

Writing about our experiences is a great way to reflect and learn. Especially through interaction with each other and some level of challenge. Master has always read this blog and continues to read current and past posts. Journaling is also useful, so long as there is an effort to think and review what has been written.

Many people find this blog through searching for submissive / slave relationships. So maybe I’m doing my bit in helping to educate a new generation of dominants and submissives. Or maybe it is just a way of getting off on some sexy writing. Who knows?

I for one love to read other D/s related blogs. All relationships are different and there is no one way of being a dominant or submissive. But it is great to learn and to reflect on those differences. Plus it gives us things to talk about when the Safeword D/s club meets online.

tellmeabout

Thoughts on submission

This is the second post in the Loving BDSM series 30 days of D/s.

Does a submissive have certain behaviors?

Over the past few years I have met many submissive people, in real life and through the blog and social media. There do seem to be common traits and behaviours that people share. There are many nurses and teachers in our midst, so perhaps caring and nurturing appeal to someone who identifies as submissive. We are often people who appear strong and independent, intelligent and able. But peel away the layers and there is often a vulnerability. A need to serve another, for structure, to be cared for. For me also, I have a need to give the responsibility for decision making to another person. Not for every aspect of life, but an increasing number things.

Do submissives do specific tasks?

There is no one type of submissive, so while many do specific tasks they won’t necessarily be the same ones. The key thing for me is a desire to serve, whether that is providing food, support or other practical things. Or else serving sexually, being ready for use in what ever way he chooses. I don’t have tasks that are expected to be done each day, but more general rules which relate to actions and behaviour.

When you think of a submissive and submission, what thoughts come to mind?

Submission for me is about acknowledging that my life is about serving my dominant, my Master. That he has total power and control of me in all aspects of life. In reality this means that I no longer have secrets, always discuss worries and concerns and where necessary and desirable defer to him for a decision. I often complain and argue but in the end I will usually accept his decision. Though he has been wrong on occasions and said so.

It is in the bedroom or playroom that my submission shows itself more effectively. That is because there I am able to shake off the thoughts and responsibilities of daily life and put myself in his hands. When orgasm control, cock worship, sexual play, impact play and other elements of BDSM come to play. That is when my submissive self more closely matches those you read about in fictional stories and M/s manuals.

But life can’t be one long dungeon scene and I wouldn’t want it to be. So in the main, and average person wouldn’t know I was a submissive. But Master does and that is what matters.

Loving BDSM 30 Days of D/s

Wayback when

I have a few photos that were taken before I regularly posted anything of myself. Wayback then, I was a little more worried about showing pictures of myself. Especially those of me in a somewhat compromising situation. Things have changed over the years.

This photo was taken at the very beginning of our relationship, almost exactly 5 years ago. At the end of our second or third playdate (I think). What you can’t see here (and I might show it another day) is my red pussy which had just been pumped. Not only did he clamp my nipples, but also used the zipper and spreader bar. The intensity of pain and of pleasure that day is something I can still remember even though I am short on details. It may have happened wayback when, but this is the first time I have shared this photo here.

February Photofest

What submission means to me

Last week I joined the SafeworD/s Club a chat community and website run by Missy and His Lordship. This is a great resource for both new D/s couples and also those who have been around for longer. I joined the live chat session and hope to get back soon. It was great to share experiences and find out more about everyone. I urge you to go take a look. They are also running a new Meme; Tell Me About, which started this week. The first topic is submission.

Throw-back Thursday photo from 2016

I have written about my submission many times. In fact, 177 times in the past I have labelled a post ‘submission’. Not surprising since I have been writing about this journey of mine for almost 7 years.

In the beginning

I didn’t really know what I was letting myself in for, nor did I really know what submission was (or what it wasn’t). My knowledge essentially came from books provided through my kindle in a pre 50 shades world. Many were just as unrealistic as that particular tale, often depicting a very young woman hooking up with a mega rich dominant. The more I read though, the more I realised that there was something in there for me. Mainly a world where I wouldn’t have to be the one to make all of the decisions and one where there would be sex and a lot of it. I didn’t know back then if I would enjoy the other elements such as pain and restraint. It turned out I did.

Immediately I started my first D/s relationship, I knew I should write about it. I must have had some kind of inkling that there would be no turning back and that has proved to be the case. I don’t want to go back over those early feelings (given I have written so much about them), but the archives, with links from the early days are here.

What my submission means to me now

Submission is now a way of life. It isn’t something that happens to me when we have sex, I am restrained or being flogged. Though they certainly enhance it. Instead it is more of a mindset. Something I consider when I am going about my daily life. I have agreed to serve my dominant, my Master. So, I try to think about him and what he wants and needs throughout the day. This is easier since I gave up work and actually since my cancer diagnosis.

Before, there were many competing priorities. Sometimes I felt I should be putting him first but felt I couldn’t. Many times I knew I should prioritise my own well being, but didn’t. Even when he told me I should.

During the first few weeks after I moved in with him, there was a period of adjustment. I struggled to work out who I was and what I wanted. But gradually things fell into place. I relaxed into the role we carved out for me and I began to feel calmer and more at peace with myself than I have for a very long time. If ever.

It is difficult to say what exactly is different. Just that it feels it. A bit like when you live with someone before marriage and then have a wedding. Something changes, but you are not sure what. In many ways we are a partnership, cooking and tackling household chores together. We are out a lot as we pursue cultural interests, enjoy good food and wine and we travel a lot. We also give each other space, but be communicate too and maybe that is the crux of things. Ensuring we can express not only what we want and need, but what we feel about those things. I serve him but am not waiting on him hand and foot. He has the last word, but cares for my needs deeply. Plus he washes up, makes my morning coffee and can cook too.

Ever since he named me MPB, Master has called me his pleasing and pleasure bitch. Lately he has been calling me his precious bitch. When he takes my submission it provides him with the power he needs. But we also trust each other implicitly to take care of each other. Lately he has been doing rather more of that and for once in my life I have allowed that to happen. Perhaps, at last I am happy in my submissive self. Cared for, loved and precious.

tellmeabout
February Photofest

The changing nature of my submission

#Sccwriting

The empowering nature of submission

There are times when I wonder if I am truly submissive. As I go about my daily life, making decisions and just getting on with things. Should I defer on all things? Should I ask for more direction? 

Well, no actually. After almost 5 years in this relationship we have settled into our roles. Yes, things have changed. I don’t feel the need to be in control all of the time in all things. I no longer need to know everything that is going to happen, I trust him to be in control. That includes deferring to him for advice in a way that I had never known possible before. Master has a quiet, but powerful way of getting me to make decisions where I need to or ensuring that he does where it is better for me. I know I am a strong woman, but I need his support in more ways than I even knew. What is more, I am happy and proud to be his submissive.

What does safe mean?

He makes me feel safe. Indeed, my submission gives me a safety net. It means that I trust him to look after me whether in daily life, or when we are playing. I feel safe that he is making the right decisions for me and us. That isn’t to say that I don’t argue, become ‘unruly’ or ‘bratty’. But who doesn’t push against what they know to be good for them? 

Safe also means a safe word. I may be a slave, but we have never abolished my safe word. While I have never used it, I would if I needed to. As it happens, I only have to express that something is wrong when we play and he will stop. I guess that is what makes me feel safe in his hand, I trust him to make sure no harm comes to me.

BDSM in submission and play

Our life when it comes to BDSM and kink play is set into something of a routine. Our sex-life may look vanilla to the uninitiated observer. But only if there were no sound on the video – words and actions are important for us. Just when I think things are a little predictable he makes me pee on him, or he on me. Or he will make me get on my knees, undo his trousers and tell me to suck him off. 

Play is not a regular feature, but we have the equipment at the ready and suddenly it will appear. More recently we have attended clubs where both my submission and our play have been on display. I hope we can find a way to continue to do that, including the CMnf events. 

Limits over time

When we met I thought I was pretty clear about my limits. Over time he has pushed them slowly and carefully. My level of trust is such now, that I am happy to declare I have no limits. In truth of course there are, but he knows what they are. I have faith that he wouldn’t put me in danger, but will stretch my acceptance of his kinks. You can’t make this kind of thing happen, it takes time, patience and communication. And we have worked on all 3. 

My advice to others

Be prepared to look deeply at yourself and to answer questions about your words and actions. Even those in the past. Trust that you and your dominant will need time to settle into your roles, just as you do in regular life. Allow your submission to develop in your dominant’s hands, let them lead and trust your true personality to emerge. It isn’t always easy, you won’t always get it right but a strong relationship will allow you to be the submissive you both want. Finally trust your instincts – if you think you are submissive then you probably are. 

Reclaimed

It had been perhaps 2 weeks since my last orgasm. There hadn’t been much in the opportunity or indeed desire during our week apart. For one, it was too hot in a bedroom where the air conditioning wasn’t used. A preference of the other occupant. For another I didn’t feel the need and for another my orgasms really don’t belong to me. 

His fingers explored my damp folds and he leaned down to inspect his property. As he placed his mouth over my clit I felt my excitement build and my cunt grow wetter. I took his hard cock in my hand and worked it a little. His tongue still moving over my piercing, he slipped a finger into my vagina. I was moist but a little tight after the abstinence, so he moved his finger in and out, then inserted another. Suddenly the need to orgasm was at the forefront of my mind; an urgent need. Thankfully the countdown was only 5, else I might not have been able to hold back. This was a clitoral orgasm of the finest order.

As he pushed his cock inside me, a feeling of relief overwhelmed. Master is reclaiming his slave, he told me and that is how it felt. He told me to cum again, and this time I felt a gush from inside my cunt and I began to float. He asked me who I was, the answer flowed easily from my lips  – “this girl is Master’s slave”.

Pulling away he instructed me to mount him, so I got off the bed while he rolled onto his back. I climbed aboard and his cock slid into my now wide and slick hole. I tightened my hips and moved up and down on his throbbing dick as he rubbed my clit. More orgasms flowed from me and he pulled me forward arching his hips from underneath. my inner slut was now in full force and I became an orgasm producing machine. Spent, I lay beside him and he took me one last time, releasing his seed into my throbbing body.

I had been reclaimed.