30 Days of Submission – Day 1

Many other bloggers have posted their 30 days of submission and it feels to me that the time is right for me to start mine. If i can keep this going most days i should be able to finish by the time i go off on holiday on September 24th; we shall see.

So day 1:

Does your submission – either what you practice or what you strive for – have a label? Do you view your submission as Taken in Hand, domestic discipline, top/bottom, dominant/submissive, master/slave, owner/pet, or some other description or combination? If you do not use a label, why?

I started my  relationship with Sir knowing that he was a Dominant and that he wanted me to be his submissive. This essentially takes place within the confines of the bedroom (or whatever room or venue we happen to be in), but also spreads into online scenes, phone calls. This feels like a kind of planned submission. We are not quite playing a game, but we are part of an agreed arrangement within the context of which we are submissive and Dominant. 

Having said that, my submission and his dominance spreads beyond that. We can be discussing a topic, having a pretty usual, vanilla type of conversation when suddenly he will get all Dom on me and call me slut or whore and i am putty in his hands and immediate submissive. At the same time i might sit on the stool in his kitchen (for example), and spread my legs (no knickers) in the way he likes and he might turn round, see me and again he is my Dom and i am his sub. 

i would say that the longer that time goes on, and the more time we spend together (in real life, online, on the phone) then the move our relationship develops into one where i am more submissive and he is more Dominant. This is partly because we are trying out new things, he is teaching me more about my kinky, submissive side and the trust we have in each other grows.

Submissive personality?

What me?

i thought i would give the blog hop challenge over on Submissive guide a go this month. Never one to do things in advance, i am writing this today and the closing date is today. mind you, with the time difference, i still have 10 hours to go.

So the question is – Are you a quiet obedient submissive or is there an element of playful brattiness in your dynamic? How would you describe your submissive personality? How does your owner encourage or enhance who you are?

Master tells me that i am very submissive at times. i wear what he wants me to wear and generally do as he wants me to do even if what i am being asked to do is uncomfortable. i do these things because i want to and because i trust him and his judgement. Over the last 5 months (give or take a week or so) i have learned to submit more and more to his will. From the first time that i touched myself in a public place and told him that i was a slut, i have been thrilled at the idea of being owned in this way. i have dressed as a maid and taken photos of myself. i have dressed in a short skirt that just about covered my bare backside on more than on occasion, i have submitted to being tied to his bed and spanked. i have worn a butt plug to a meeting at work and to walk around a supermarket at lunch time. All of these things (and others) have been done with a minimum of argument.

However i am no walkover. i am not completely submissive in all of my life all of the time. Ok so i am not in a 24/7 relationship with Sir, but even so i do tell him when i think things are unreasonable, too painful or if i thing something just isn’t possible. i meet him on my terms and we discuss things outside of the scenes we play as equals. I also have my home life, work, running the household etc. Sir would probably say i am much too submissive to hubby, as i do too many things he should do himself (laziness is his problem), but i do so for a quiet life. I spent too much of my marriage fighting and don’t wish to do it anymore.

i love to be submissive, i know i am submissive by nature, but that doesn’t mean that i don’t have my own will or that i don’t use it. What is great though is that Master continues to push me, to explore the things that i think i don’t want to do and actually find i not only can but want to. i guess that is all part of the journey to find out who i am. What is more it is something i love!

Humiliation part two – the shopping trip

In part one of this adventure which can be found here i described how the slut in this story picked up a stranger from an airport coffee shop. The story continues below.

The guest house was the kind of place where people stay the night before their holiday particularly if they need to leave early in the morning for their flight and want to leave their car without paying airport car park charges. This couple were not the usual clientele, but were welcomed warmly none the less.

A couple of hours after check in, they emerged from the small shower cubicle together. Much had happened already. She had been collared and cuffed and made to kneel before him and take his big and very hard cock deep in her throat. She had welcomed his cock into her pussy, while she lay helpless, hands cuffed behind her back. Then he had taken her arse, something he knew she was particularly partial to. He was right! She had already lost count of how many times he had made her cum, but her pussy throbbed at the memory.

By the time they left the sanctity of their room to go in search of an indoor picnic at a local supermarket, she was wearing nipple clamps, her short dress and fuck me heels (higher than the ones she had picked him up in). Nothing else. She walked purposefully beside him. It was only a 10 minute walk away, and it is not unusual to see a woman wearing a short dress and heels on a hot summers evening. She was conscious the whole time though that she wore no underwear and that her nipples were clamped.

This man loves a bit of shopping it seams. He likes to wander back and forward while deciding what to eat and he loves a bargain. She pushed the trolley, found  a couple of reduced items which were greeted well and otherwise walked backwards and forwards either in front or behind him. Her nipples grew more and more painful but she found it a useful reminder of what had already happened, what would happen later and of course what she was.

At the back of the shop, she bent down to examine some wine (even though she was planning to stick to her no alcohol on a weeknight plan) and he took the opportunity to take a good look under her dress; to view her bare backside, her shaved pussy. To touch her.

Exciting the shop with their goodies they made their way though an alleyway towards the street where the guest house was situated. This was an excellent opportunity for Him to tell her to bend over and expose herself. Of course she did as she was told.

The walk back was painful. Her feet hurt; these shoes were not for walking. Plus she had insolently refused stockings for this trip as the ones he wanted her to wear would have looked ridiculous with the dress. Punishment is still to be given for this! In truth the stockings would have prevented the blister that formed on one of her feet. More painful still was that which emanated from her nipples. At the same time though she realised that this was a pain that also made her increasingly wet. A couple of times He tested this out by pinching her nipples and then touching her under her dress.

Once in the room he took full advantage of the feelings of humiliation, of arousal and of pain to complete his mission to make her submit to the needs of his once again hard and shiny cock. What is more she loved it.

Humiliation part one – the pick up

The journey was a hot one, a sunny day, the weather very warm. Her car, almost 8 years old was without air conditioning. It wasn’t just the heat of the day though, the anticipation of what was to come added to the wetness which surrounded her lower body. The traffic was heavy, the road notorious for hold ups. The constant stopping and starting just added to the feelings of anticipation, after all, she was pretty eager to arrive.

The airport car park was busy, but finally she found a space on the 4th floor. Gathering her bag, and changing from flat sandals to heels she walked towards the lifts and the terminal building.

First stop was the ladies toilets. She needed to change from her sticky work clothes into something less heavy. Something short, something suitable for the occasion. Locking the cubicle door behind her she hung her bag from the hook on the wall and stripped off her skirt, top and bra (she was wearing no panties). She let all but the bra fall to the floor. Putting the bra inside the bag, she took out some stockings and a suspender belt bag and perched on the toilet. The stockings were smooth to the touch as she put them on. Running her hands up her legs, she shuddered slightly thinking about what was to come. Standing up in just stockings and shoes she set about attaching the suspender belt to the tops of the stockings. Lastly she took the little blue dress, and pulled it over her head, pulling it down to just below the tops of her stockings. She gathered up the work clothes and put them into her bag before emerging from the cubicle she headed towards the washbasins to apply her make up.

The airport had two terminals and she knew she was in the wrong one. She headed towards the monorail that connects them. She was excited, thrilled by what was about to happen, but at the same time nervous. Her dress was short, only just covering her bare newly shaved pussy, the air conditioning within the building made her feel cool for the first time in hours even though heat permeated from that area of her body.

The people around her were mainly casually dressed. Travel clothes, loose, cool. Some wore trousers, others shorts. No one appeared to be wearing heels, stockings. She wondered if anyone would look at her and notice. But actually no one appeared to. 

Within minutes she emerged from the train, along with a throng  of holiday makers with their heavy suitcases and strolled along the moving walkway towards her destiny. She reached a junction and rather than walk towards the check in desks as the people with suitcases did she took the route towards the arrivals hall.

This area was quieter than the monorail or the departure area and contained a number of coffee shops and other retail outlook. Ahead was a set of stairs, she climbed them slowly, but purposefully, mindful that a workman in a fluorescent jacket was standing within view and that there was a good chance he might be able to see up her short dress.

The coffee shop seating area was empty except for one man who was seated at the back by the wall. He glanced up over his reading glasses as she walked towards the counter and their eyes met. He was a smart looking traveller; wearing a light brown linen suit and a patterned silk shirt. This looked like an opportunity.

She bought a bottle of sparkling water from the counter, then taking the bottle and a glass walked to an adjacent seating area and sat down on the padded black seat. Having poured the water, she took a sip and looked across. He was looking at her. She looked down at her legs and pulled her dress up slightly so he could see her stocking tops and opened her legs a little, leaving him with no doubt what kind of a girl she was and what he could expect from her.

The minutes passed, she observed a group of airport police, complete with guns and a dog. Thinking she had better be less obvious. She swapped chairs thinking that this would give him a better view, without any chance of the police noticing but then found that the chairs in front of her prevented this. She also noticed that she was in full view of what seemed to be a staff room; she moved back. She didn’t want to expose herself to them while hiding herself from her target.

She finished her drink, gathered her belongings and headed back down the stairs. Glancing behind she was pleased to see he was behind her. Back through the airport, a  short stop in the book shop, he was behind her all the way. Just before the monorail she stopped and he stopped right behind her. She asked him if he was following her and he smiled a lovely smile and agreed he was. He offered her a small cloth bag which he said she had left behind. Actually she hadn’t but looking inside and seeing an array of adult toys she took the bag and agreed that indeed she had left it in the cafe.

Standing waiting for the train she felt a hand touching her leg, it travelled up her stocking top and briefly touched her bare bottom. She shivered with excitement enjoying the touch of his hand, before remembering that this was crowded place and that she didn’t know this man and moving forward slightly. The train arrived and she stood facing the exit door. She could feel him standing close, his hands lifting her dress. Moisture erupted from her pussy as a cool breeze swept across her backside. She shook him off before edging back towards him for more. She wanted and needed this man and he seemed to want her,

She walked towards the lift to the car park and he followed. Inside the lift they were alone, they faced each other. Now he took her in his arms, kissed her and put his hands openly up her dress and felt her hot wet pussy. He asked her what she was at the airport for. She told him truthfully that she was there to find a man and he was the one. He told her he was a traveller and that he had been in a remote place where sexy women were far and few between. She observed his small rucksack and thought this unlikely.

They got into the front seats of the car, she in the driver seat, since this was her car and he again touched what would very soon become rightfully his. She was already close to the edge, could easily have cum there and then. But he took his hand away and instead undid the zip on his trousers. It was obvious what he wanted and she was happy to oblige.

In the middle of the 4th floor of the car park she leaned down and took his large, hard, smooth cock in her mouth.

One day

One day until i see Sir. We have chatted a lot this week about what we will do tomorrow. We are meeting in a public place as strangers (no details until after the event) then going to the place we have arranged to stay. Because we have had time, we have fine tuned the scene and our roles within it. i am pretty sure however that i will be one of the only people there wearing stockings on a baking hot day, mind you they will be flesh coloured so people probably won’t know. Humiliation will be involved (you would expect no less from me) and i will be able to demonstrate that i am Sir’s slut. This picture gives some idea of what my morning thoughts have been about today and what i am thinking about doing tomorrow (among other things).

i am pleased to say i have been pretty rigid when it comes to following my planned diet and fitness plan, and that has paid off. i have lost 4lb in weight. i have managed to meet all of the goals i set for the week and plan to increase the aerobic exercise to 4 times this week (though may end up calling events with Sir one of them)! I am so pleased i managed not to slip up on the alcohol front, especially as work was so busy. i have slipped into a routine whereby if i have a hectic day i reward myself with a glass of wine. Trouble is i follow it with another and then over half the bottle is gone (i know i need smaller glasses). i have had no wine at all this week and instead have had a couple of gin and tonics on Friday and Saturday. i feel better for it and intend carrying this on for the foreseeable future. I was very proud of myself when a work colleague brought cakes in for their birthday and i didn’t even go and look at them. For next week i hope to keep this up, take my lunch in to work every day and to go out for a quick walk each lunchtime.

Today and tomorrow i will reaffirm my submission to myself by wearing no panties. i know Mrs Soft Bottom is exploring this side of herself and has for the first time gone to work commando. i have discovered that not only is having all my girly bits naked kind of invigorating i find it a reminder, all day long that i am doing this for Him and that i am His submissive. Soon i will be a slightly slimmer submissive who can wear my lovely corset for Him with pride.

Early morning dreaming

It has been nearly 4 weeks since Sir and i were last together. This has been the longest time between meetings, and it most definitely feels like it. I have had plenty to occupy me, crazily busy at work, birthdays (not just mine), family stuff, normal life.

We have chatted (and more) by phone, we have texted a bit and we have spent time together online (quite a bit this week). Virtual interaction is fine, but it isn’t the same. You can’t feel someone when you are online, touching yourself isn’t the same as when they do it.

i have taken to thinking about Sir when lying in bed in the morning. The time when you wake, when you haven’t yet moved. Or the time when i have brought my morning drink (hot water with lemon) back to bed and the news in droning on in the back ground. i think and i dream about what has happened before and what will happen next time.

i think of His cock. i think of how big it will be when it emerges from his trousers as i kneel before him. i think of how smooth it will be, how it will taste and how i will lick him and suck him. i think of how wet i will be as i suck, i think of how deep he will go.

i think of how He will restrain me, my hands cuffed. i think of my collar, which He will put on me as soon as we arrive at our hotel room.

i think of the nipple clamps. Of the way He sucks my nipples to prepare them. That feeling of pain followed by immense pleasure as He applies one clamp then the other. The pain and the pleasure when He pulls the little chain.

i think of the pleasure i get when He tells me: “you are wet slut” when He first touches my clitoris and how much more wet i become as He strokes me.

i think of Him taking me, using me, making me a whole person again. i think of the pleasure he gets from knowing that what we do together is reserved for him alone.

Sometimes, though not always, i make myself cum during these thoughts; often it doesn’t take long. More usually though i just think and then get up, happy in the knowledge that however long i have to wait, one day sooner or later this will be real again.

Four days and counting!

Wet Run

One of the things that strikes me in my relationship with Sir is the extent to which he wants to know and to control what i am going to wear for him. We have now agreed the wardrobe for our next meeting and yesterday morning (while i worked from home!) we had a bit of a dry (or maybe wet, since i soon was) run.

Standing in front of my bedroom mirror in shortish dress that adequately covered my stockings and some very nice silver heels (i never realised when i bought those shoes how hard it would be to find clothes that would match them), i lifted my dress for him. He couldn’t see this of course, he was over a hundred miles away and we don’t do that webcam thing (not my cup of tea), rather we use the old fashioned phone. i described what could be seen if i bent over. We talked though meeting as if strangers in a coffee shop, me dropping something and bending over, my sitting opposite him and how much he might see if he looked under the table at my open legs. We talked about the possibility of walking around a supermarket together while my nipples were clamped. These discussions and writing about it now have an amazing effect on me. I reported that i was wet and sir as usual allowed me to touch myself and to orgasm for him.

Given a chance i would always prefer to be with Sir in person, giving myself to him. But when that can’t happen online chats and definitely phone chats are a useful. They help remind me of who and what i am. They help me remember that i am his slut (he particularly likes me to tell him i am his slut, his whore as i cum) and they help set  me up for whatever else i am going to do.

I worked till just after lunch time (not that i actually ate lunch at lunch time) then i prepared a picnic for my brother, his girlfriend, hubby and i and we headed off to the races for an evening meeting. Wearing the knickers i had been wearing all day (different dress, no stockings) i was reminded frequently of what had happened during the morning and the discussions we had had. At the racecourse we sat on a blanket on the ground between races. With the start of the race though i got up, jumped about a bit to encourage my horse on (you have to embrace these opportunities for a bit of excitement). This whole process of sitting, standing and realising where your underwear is definitely serves as a reminder (Sir will love this bit),about what you were doing in them earlier.

We had a great time, i choose  my horses on the basis of their name, or if i have heard of the jockey and was unsuccessful this time. Hubby who applies some kind of secret knowledge to his decision making had a few good wins. Trouble is he tends to get a bit carried away and bets away his winnings given half a chance, on this occasion though i extracted a wad of cash which he can have back tomorrow. While there is no profit, the evening cost us the price of the admission, so that seems like a reasonable result.

There was a concert afterwards. Tom Jones still has a great voice and performed well. But he spent more time on music from his latest album rather than classic stuff, it was crowded, we couldn’t get close enough to see properly and my back was aching (too much sitting then standing and jumping). Shortly before the end, feeling peckish (just the picnic all day) we headed off to a very nice Chinese restaurant and had a simple, reasonably light but very very nice meal before heading home.

My assessment of the day? Lovely in every way! 

Picture: Woman standing in front of a mirror, Christopher Wilhelm Eckersberg (1783-1853)


With a month between meetings, we have little choice but to first reflect on what has been and then plan. What we had last month was really special, two whole nights together. Loads of experiences mixed together; collared, cuffed, kneeling, sucking, fucking and being fucked, dressing up, dressing down, sleeping in stockings, being humiliated, cumming lots and lots and lots.

Loads to talk about, to reflect on and to do again in the future!

We have had to wait mainly because it really is summer. For someone like me, involved in this kind of relationship, around these parts, August is particularly difficult. There are practically no work meetings at all, let alone any kind of opportunity for an out of town trip. Plus loads of people are on holiday, so if i could get away from home, i couldn’t get away from work as someone actually has to turn up at work. Now i have no school age child, i no longer take my holidays when school is out. Therefore it is only my capacity for a good story and the fact my family can take care of themselves that allows even one meeting with Sir, over night i might add, during the month of August.

Now Sir knows about, and reads, this blog, i have to accept that he will pick up on the things i say.  So when i tell the world that i am turned on by humiliation, he takes what he already knows (finding me very turned on by being made to wear slutty clothing along the seafront near his house), and adds to it what he reads here and comes up with some VERY humiliating ideas.

We are booked into a small guest house. At least this time we will both stay all night. I will be on my guard to ensure that either a) i take nothing embarrassing with me (which is unlikely) or b) i make sure anything that may cause embarrassment are in my bag when i leave. We are planning a scene in a very public place, where i am going to approach him and pick him up as if he were a stranger. This will involve me going to a meeting at work and then driving for an hour and changing for Sir in a public toilet. Then approaching him and getting him back to the B&B). The whole thing is both scary and very exciting.

This week, with my birthday, i have been preoccupied. However, my submission; my obligation to Sir has remained with me. I have made sure that on the two most important family days: my birthday and my night out with family, i have worn the underwear that Sir bought me. Whatever i have done, wherever i have been i have remembered that i am HIS. I just need to get through the next 12 days until i am actually able to show Sir that i am still his. 


i feel that i am at a new place today, a place where in 50 years today, if i lived that long i would be 100. i don’t feel bad about reaching this age, after all, doesn’t life begin here (or was that 40)? i loved being in my 20’s, but didn’t much like 30 (hubby preoccupied, young child, career seeming to stagnate), 40’s have been fine (i gained 2 degrees in that time and change my job 3 times) but as i have said before, ever so slightly unfulfilled.

This feels different, and not just because i met Sir 4 months ago. Actually making the decision to find out more about D/s and then the realisation that it was something i wanted to explore has been fulfilling in its own right.

i have taken today off, just because i wanted to. i don’t have a special place to go, or anyone particular to be with, but it feels good to have a day to think things through, to have space.

There are some loose plans, i wasn’t to go out before 10. Some lovely flowers have arrived from hubby. i will speak to Sir at lunchtime, and am planning some very good sirloin steaks for dinner plus some champagne. Dinner out will be tomorrow (where i wanted to go doesn’t open for dinner on Mondays). I have received some lovely pearls from my parents and a bunch of cards (even before the postman arrives).
A couple of funny things – son’s present to me is currently at the post office (we went to collect it on Saturday being a small one it closed at 1pm and we arrived at 5 past). I rang my parents to thank them for my gift and they were in the middle of a crisis over the kindle we bought mum for her birthday yesterday. They get on reasonably well with technology but i think the kindle is going to take a little while for her to get the hang of. In the midst of the whole thing they didn’t actually wish me happy birthday, though i did manage to smooth over their stresses!

Sir and i have plans to meet in a couple of weeks and last night began planning a new scene, which i will write about here as we get closer to the event. We will be spending the night together (yipee), so plenty to look forward to.

This birthday feels like it will be a bit of a landmark for me. i feel i am moving forward now into a place i want to be and that can only be a very good thing!

The beautiful flowers and card above were given to me on Friday from the folks at work.

Embracing humiliation

Over the last 4 months, since meeting Sir, first online and on the phone and then in real life i have learnt to face the fact that i am actually turned on by feelings of humiliation. From the first time that Sir called me a whore and a slut on the phone, i have felt both disgusted and thrilled. Disgusted because it is ingrained within me that those terms are for people who are ‘not like me’, people who are cheap, who sleep around who show off their bodies in a demeaning way. Mind you i have always held a view that people can do as they wish, and don’t believe i have actually ever described anyone as a slut anytime since i was at school, if then. Well who would know that actually i love to be called a slut myself, or indeed put myself in a position where i encouraged someone to call me such a name.

Last time i was with Sir, we went out with me, a middle aged woman (of course with him a middle aged man) dressed in what could only be described as provocative and ‘sluttish clothing, The events of that evening led to me be more turned on than i probably have ever been before. Sir called me ‘wanton’ that night.

This week in the absence of any opportunity to see Sir for another couple of weeks, i have done what Sir likes and gone without knickers for 4 days out of 5. This might be something of a record, since i have worn trousers only one working day. i have felt exposed, i have thought the unlikely might happen and any moment i would trip over in the middle of the office and expose myself. Travelling on the escalator within a local department store i worried people would be able to see up my skirt, of course utter rubbish. I have embraced this whole process though, because it brings me back to who i am, who i want to be and what i want to be.

Today, under Sir’s instruction i ventured out at lunchtime with no knickers and a butt plug where a butt plug goes. This was the ultimate in humiliation. No knickers and butt plug, the fear that it would fall out in the middle of town. Texting Sir, Him calling me a Slut (even if we missed chatting as i didn’t hear his text come through was exhilarating. Never mind that i had to go to the supermarket toilet and remove the plug because there was a definite danger of it falling out in the middle of the fruit and veg aisle! I was turned on and remained on all afternoon.

All of this is setting Sir’s creative juices flowing and he has ideas for some humiliating events in the future. i find this scary, it makes me anxious. Trouble is it also excites me. He has me eating out of the palm of his hand. i just can’t help myself since there is no doubt i am his sub and he is one hell of a Master!