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My blogging journey

How did you first become aware of the blogging community?

My first blog was about nursing and working for the NHS (UK health system). It started as somewhere to document some of the growing disgruntlement some of us were feeling as well as documenting what was going on. Soon after I started a Masters course and began to write posts that were reflective and which I could use as part of a journal. Once I had finished my course my interest waned and posts were sporadic.

In 2012 I decided to start another blog – World of joolz – as a way of recording my journey in my new and illicit relationship. I never envisaged that blog would lead to this one and the relationship I have now. Shortly after starting that blog, I deleted my work related one. It was difficult enough being anonymous on one blog, but nigh on impossible on two. Especially if anyone worked out both were written by the same person. I regret deleting and wish I had just taken it offline. 

What made you decide to take the plunge and join in?

In both cases I began to read other blogs and decided I would like to write my own. Because I was used to commenting on other blogs, I was bolder with the kink one and so attracted followers quite quickly. In both cases I felt part of a (very small) community and enjoyed the interaction. I am still friends on Facebook with a couple of nurses from those early days. 

As time has gone by, I have interacted much more with the wider kink / BDSM / sex blogger community. Twitter was probably the thing that led to my small circle widening to the extent it is today. My blog isn’t the most widely read, but lots of people know about it and me.

How did you decide on the type of content you would share?

My blogs have always been about a personal journey or way of recording events. In the past 2 or 3 years I have joined in much more with memes like this one, and sometimes that has taken me in a different direction. I would like to write more fiction, but don’t find it easy. There are so many people out there with more creativity and better writing skills than me. I enjoyed participating in the Smut Marathon, but am undecided about next year. 

To begin with, preserving anonymity was very important as I didn’t want to lose my job. So I was careful not to give locations or information that might identify me. While this is still the case, I am much more willing to show my face and to be more open.  

Have you achieved the goals you wanted when you started blogging and have these changed over time?

From time to time, I remind myself that the blog is about me, about my relationship and journey and pull back slightly from everything else. I didn’t have any particular goals, but was on a voyage of discovery. I would say I have been successful in that. I have learned so much about myself as a person and have been able to see myself grow as a submissive for example. 

Master reads everything I write and often reads old posts, they are often points of discussion for us. 

What have been the most positive aspects of being a blogger?

In the early days of my kink journey I read many submissive and slave blogs, in particular. They helped me to work out the things I wanted to try on my journey as well as those I definitely didn’t. They were where I learned about TTWD (the things we do) and that no two relationships are, or need to be the same.

The best thing has been meeting other people through blogging as well as engaging regularly online. At the weekend I met Indie who is in the UK at the moment and who I would never have met if it hadn’t been for blogging. 

Have there been any negative aspects of being a blogger?

Sometimes you can put pressure on yourself to participate in everything. Finding time to write is difficult enough, but visiting other blogs and participating is difficult. I love to get comments, and feel I should do the same, that is time consuming. But it is enjoyable. 

#F4TFriday

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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.

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Sunbathing

Over the past couple of weeks I have been lucky enough to spend time in two hot and sunny places – France and then Cyprus. The latter was with my mum, so there were no opportunities for a sexy photos. However while in France, Master took this one. 

Me photographed relaxing on a lounger, legs wide open.
Sinful Sunday
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In The Mood

It is a while since I followed one of the sccwriting prompts. They can be found here.

Submission and sex

There is no doubt in my mind, or indeed Master’s that my submission and sexuality go hand in hand. I am at my most submissive when we are having sex. This is, I think, because when we are having sex I am able to let go of everything else in my mind and just be. I can live in the moment, and when I do that my submission comes to the fore. At the same time, Master’s dominance is most pronounced when he is aroused. That is not to say that our M/s relationship is confined to the bedroom, or indeed playroom. Since that is the other place when my submission is in profound evidence. There are undercurrents all of the time, but they are subtle and not overt. 

Tasks when in the mood for sex

Tasks and rules come more easily to me when I am in the mood for sex, that is definitely true. Calling him Master and myself this girl come automatically and I feel I am pretty much under his spell. During sex and play, I could easily comply with any thing asked of me. As a slave, I have no specific limits, I implicitly trust him to keep me safe and I willingly submit to him. 

Interestingly, since we have been living together, I have begun to regain the ability to relax and allow him to take control much more of the time. In the past I always had to retain responsibility for a large proportion of my life. Recently the need for this has receded and it is now only things to do with my family that I retain control. I see that in the future, my submission will grow and develop and become more evident outside of the bedroom.

Not feeling it

There are plenty of times when one or other of us doesn’t feel the M/s side of our lives. Sometimes that happens at the same time. Since our relationship is strong, I don’t see this as a problem. We are not robots, we are living human beings with feelings and needs. Together we can always work through them.

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Elust #110

Elust 110 Header Exposing 40 naked in a beach changing room

Photo courtesy of Lido ~ Exposing40

Welcome to Elust 110–

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #111? Start with the rules, come back October 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Fat, Beautiful, Worthy

Not going great

what pro-choice looks like in practice

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Uniform response…

Mx Nillin Fucks… Melons!

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

The Gift

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

 

 

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

My Experience with a Soft Penis
Once upon a time
How to choose a sex toy for couples?
The rediscovery of my submission
The darkest hour is just before dawn.

Erotic Non-Fiction

Here and Now
A “Uniform” Experience?
The Next Generation
Teasing

Erotic Fiction

Collaboration
Live Your Desire
Big City
Trick or Treat? Halloween Party (Part 2)
The message said
Girls Do it Better
Barefoot and Bitless
Teddy’s tentacles

Poetry

-02.09.18_11:32-

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Are cam models sex workers?

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

He Smacks My Face, and I Love It
Beach bum

Blogging

Collaboration

 

 

 

Elust

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Breaking the rules

What is your attitude to rules? Do you follow them completely? Do you bend them? Are they there to be broken?

I struggle with the whole concept of rules. On one hand we need laws to ensure people understand what is considered right and wrong. That there are punishments for committing murder, theft, rape etc. But the problem is people love to make rules and even laws for their own sake. Often these seem to be for the purpose of exercising power over others.  Laws relating to sex seem to be for this very purpose. I find it abhorrent that for so long it was illegal for people of the same sex to express their love for each other, have relationships and enjoy sex. Also that women couldn’t terminate unwanted pregnancies. For so many people in the world these things are still illegal and even here where they are not, stigma and taboo remain.

Do you have any self-imposed rules that you live your life by? Do you ever break these?

My personal rules relate to the things I feel are morally right. They relate to respecting others, to being kind and considerate. But also I try not to break some of the more obvious rules of society and laws of the land. I try to treat others as I would want to be treated. I try to stick to the speed limit and to do what I can to help my mum and others that need me. Sometimes though things don’t go so well. I can be intolerant of others, especially those who seem to want to waste time, people that are not prepared, and those who are down right rude. There are times when I can be short tempered and impatient and then I am inclined to forget the rules. 

Within your relationship, are there rules you abide by? Who sets these? Have you ever broken them and, if so, was it deliberate? What are the consequences of rule breaking in this context?

As a consensual slave in a M/s relationship there are rules. We have tried ones that were agreed and written down, but neither of us were very good at them. For me, us living apart meant that some of them were tricky to stick to all of the time and for him, informing them was too much trouble. 

So really our rules are about respect and remembering who has the last word. They are about honesty, about telling him everything and not bottling things up. For us, rules are about me allowing him to take control and being happy when he does. The main rule is that his decision is final. Probably for us that is enough.

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My roots

Until they are older, and have children of their own, many people don’t think about their origins, their roots. As young children, my brothers and I enjoyed listening to our grandparents recounting stories of how they had met, their courtship and marriage. Soon after they married the second world war broke out, grandad went off to war. My nan and my mum who was only weeks old lives with family, but everyone muddled through. He was in France, North Africa and Sicily and she along with my mum lived in close proximity to their wider family in England. Tales of my grandad leaving a cuckoo clock on Dunkirk beach, of family members being ‘bombed out’ sounded rather amazing, exciting.

40 years ago, people were careful to recount only the less unpleasant stories of war. No one talked of fear or pain, of loss and poverty. The spirit of togetherness and making do came through, and the stories were embellished so that as children we found them exciting. The reality of course was different. 

The same grandparents had their roots in mining communities of the north east of England. They were in fact related to each other, cousins of a different generation. He was 9 years older, and went to India in the early 30s to escape the dangerous work of the pits. She was one of 9 children, whose father died when she was 5. My great grandfather’s death was caused by an accident in the slag heaps associated with the mines. A few years later, the family travelled south in search of a better life and to be closer to grown children already there. They had work in factories or in domestic service, in reality we would consider them children now, as the school leaving age was 14 at the time. By 1937 grandad had left the army (briefly it turned out) and was lodging next door to my nan and by August 1939 they were married with a child.

Grandad as a young man

I know this in some detail because my nan wrote it all down in what she called ‘her book’. It details her early childhood, the death of her father and moving south. Gives an insight to times spent with her brothers, the music of the times and to what it was like to be a child in the 1920’s and 30’s. It also tells me about the loneliness of being a mother whose husband was absent for the best part of 7 years. Of how people had to club together to afford decent food and the way in which death and destruction was just around the corner.

I feel privileged to have this memoir in my possession, along with the stories told to us and the family photos we can piece more of their lives together. Maybe it is time to put a little some of it online so their story can be preserved for future generations.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked
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My body and me

I have always had difficult relationship with my body. I spent years believing I was fat and so hiding it away. Only to discover later, while looking back at old photos that I was slim. By then of course I’d put on a few stones. Before my pregnancy I had pretty small tits, but they grew and grew and thankfully stayed that way, even after I had breastfed.

Master says he likes my body, and that he wants something to grab hold of. I believe him and am comfortable in my own skin when I am around him. I love that he finds me sexy and arousing, even though I struggle to see it myself.

My mum has never held back from showing off her body. My son recently remarked that he found going holiday with nan a bit embarrassing, especially when she sunbathed topless. I never did so around him, partly after getting burnt in my youth, but mainly to avoid his blushes. Also, I thought I was fat, even when i wasn’t.

Hiding

Last Wednesday I arrived in Cyprus with my right breast covered in 2 large dressings. The day before, I attended a screening one stop clinic where I had 2 areas biopsied. A small area of calcium deposits was detected on the mammogram taken last month. The breast lump I had already found wasn’t seen on the xrays. I’m a nurse and I didn’t realise that would be the case. After much prodding, poking and an ultra sound scan, the area was biopsied. I still have a massive bruise to show for it.

The dressing was visible above my top, but if mum noticed it she said nothing. Sitting on the plane beside her, I wondered what I should say. As is often the case between she and I my decision was to say nothing. If the biopsies are negative she doesn’t need to know. However, since we are sharing a room this has presented a problem. And has led to me scurrying into the bathroom to dress, change and undress. It is a completely different situation to how things would be if I were home or indeed Master were here.

My reticence about speaking of my biopsy, of showing my body to others and in particular my mum exposes a deeper issue. She is not good with other people’s problems, she certainly managed to make my dad’s illness about her. But also we tolerate each other rather than enjoy each others company. Earlier in the week she actually described me as her carer, which I guess this week, I am.

But my inability to speak about the biopsy is also about me. It is about me coming to terms with changes in my own body. This summer I have developed a number of problems, including the lump. I am not healing as i did, bruises are taking longer to fade and disappear and there is something not right.

I don’t know if this is cancer or not, I will know on Thursday. But if it is, there will be no more hiding. If all is well, then maybe I need to take some lessons from this experience and value my body more. It’s the only one I have.

30th September

The outcome of the biopsy and next steps can be found here

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Longing

After almost 2 months of living with Master i find myself far away from him, on holiday with my mum. Suffice to say, I am missing him. This post is about the things I am longing for

To begin with I was worried that I had lost something of my identity, that caring role I both love and despise. But very soon we settled into our own new routine of cooking, eating and clearing up together. In my previous life, I decided what to cook prepared it and then cleared away. This life is different already, those decisions are being made and enacted together. This may seem like nothing, but in my experience it paves the way for much much more. Evenings spent together snuggled on the sofa watching TV, or sitting separately reading, discussing current affairs or listening to music, lost in our own world.

I am missing that feeling of closeness and easy silence. But also the sex, the kink and erotic times that are ever present in our lives. Sleeping in a single bed and waking up next your mother just doesn’t feel the same. I long to feel his body pressing against my back as I stir in the early morning stillness. I want to feel his cock grow and harden as it pushes against my lower back. His hand resting on my breast. To know he is awake because he has stroked me or squeezed a nipple.

I long to hear his voice, to ask ‘did girl sleep well?’ To see his eyes gleam when I tell him I need to pee. Knowing he wants to watch, or even have me pass my gold onto his body as he sits in the bath. I miss the way Master seems to be reading a business article online, but them starts to wank himself and when I lean in to see, he has switched to porn. Sometimes when I lay pretending to sleep he is wanking, irritatingly shaking the bed. I like to complain he is stopping me sleeping. He laughs and tells me he is getting ready to service his girl. How I would love to be used by him today.

I want to feel his hands on my body, his fingers exploring my holes, his tongue on my clit. To know his cock is rubbing against my piercing. That little jolt of almost pain as he pushes into my tight cunt. I would love those things right now.

Instead I am here, on a sunbed in Cyprus while my lover is at home. The brownie points I am earning from my mum mean though that when I get home we will hopefully be left in peace. For at least a little while. In a few days, the longing will be over and I will be in his arms. Them I may well fleetingly wish to be back here, in the sun. But perhaps with him!

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Frolicking in France

It isn’t just me that messes around while naked. In fact it is him, rather than me who is more at ease with wandering around in the nude. Master can be quite the exhibitionist. These photos are of him frolicking in France

Master is naked on the balcony

He also likes to clean his teeth naked

Cleaning teeth naked
Sinful Sunday