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Scents of life

The first time I think I was actually aware that people had perceptibly different smells was when I first visited the home of my future husband. I didn’t know he was that as I was 15 and he was my new boyfriend. I observed that their house smelt different from ours and realised that other peoples did too. It wasn’t that the people themselves smelt unpleasant, there was just a smell or scent that pervaded. I have visited many homes as a nurse, and some of them did smell unpleasant. Food smells, a lack of cleaning (body and environment) and wounds to name a few. My nose has always been a little sensitive to the scents and smells around me. 

The scent of my men

In the main I haven’t got close enough to many people to actually breathe in the aroma of them.  Because I have only had 3 lovers in my life, I haven’t had the pleasure, or displeasure. When I first met my husband, the family used imperial leather soap. I could smell him from a distance and no, that wasn’t the scent I detected in the house. Later some of his aftershave aroused me, just as well as he did a manual job and often smelt of grease before showering. 

S wasn’t into the use of cleaning products or aftershave. He blamed his eczema and used a simple soap to wash in the shower. Sad to say it often wasn’t enough. I am pretty sure his excuse doesn’t hold up as Master also has eczema and it doesn’t stop him smelling clean. I suspect S sweated more, was less thorough and used the wrong products. He was also a bit tight when it came to spending money. Plus his job was also a manual one. Having said all that, his natural scent could be alluring. So long as he has recently taken a shower. 

Master doesn’t have a strong smell. He washes with products that don’t contain perfume for the reasons described above and his aftershave – Chanel Pour Monsieur – is subtle. But when he holds me close and I breathe him in, he is unmistakably him. 

The scent of us

I sometimes worry that other people can sense my arousal through my scent. But suspect that often only I can smell it. I wrote in one of my smut marathon entries about that aroma of sweat on a summers day when it combines with the scent of arousal. The story was about sex toys, but if I had continued in that vein it might have been a better entry. Anyway I digress.

He is definitely attracted to the scent of my sexual juices as well as the taste. He doesn’t smell much until he is very aroused, but tastes pretty good. But when our fluids have mixed together and are oozing out of me I can smell that. I love to lie there, nose under the covers and breath us in. That is a special smell that I had never really noticed before and is one to treasure. Sex and love, dominance and submission rolled together. I love it. 

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Getting the balance right

This third week since surgery, has been about getting back to normality and reality. But also about getting the balance right. I have been overwhelmed by everyone’s responses to these posts. They are essentially for me, a way of recording this journey. But as many people have pointed out, they will (hopefully) be useful to others in the future. 

Wound healing

Once the wound drain had been removed and I had got the all clear from the doctor, we returned to our Airbnb in Oxford. The two-week festival of song (Lieder) was still going on and we finally immersed ourselves in it. Finally free of the plastic tubing sticking into my side, on the bra line, along with the vacuumed bottle in a handbag, I could again wear dresses and longer tops. At last it was possible to lie comfortably on my side and even turn briefly onto my right side for the first time. We returned home on Sunday and later, took a relaxing jacuzzi bath together. Sipping Prosecco, and allowing the water to lap around my skin was heaven. After the bath I left all the dressings off as everything appeared to be healed.

Over the course of the week, the area around the wound seemed to be swelling up. A cushion was building under my arm once again. I wasn’t immediately worried about all of this, and anyway wasn’t really sure how it should all look and feel. The worst part was that my new pretty pink bra was too tight. Had I bought the wrong size, or perhaps put on weight. On Wednesday night I discovered that a small area of the suture line was oozing serous fluid. I put a dressing over it and went to bed. Luckily I had a hospital appointment the following day.

The doctor drained about 100mls of altered blood from inside the wound area. Luckily I didn’t feel a thing (a mixture of using the stitch line plus the residual numbness). I was pretty surprised, not to mention irritated that the small bump on my chest had gone. I wasn’t meant to have a baby breast, it should have been flat. He told me that it was likely I would need the area aspirating again. I will, because the area has swollen again. Luckily though it hasn’t spread under my arm. It’s pretty obvious the physical healing process is taking longer than expected. Not surprisingly this is getting me down a little.

Sex, drugs and rock and roll

Since the operation, I have been anxious that G would no longer find me attractive. To begin with he was nervous of the wound and dressings and also of hurting me. He was clear though, that he still found me attractive. During the course of this week we have resumed our sex life and thankfully that has meant many orgasms for me. I am reluctant to get on top yet because my wound area is a bit sore. The gravity pull when leaning forward is quite painful. It is weird that I have had more pain this week than after the operation. I have even resorted to taking a few pain killers (that is the limit of my drug use). 

There is no doubt I feel more positive about my body and his reaction to it. He has begun to touch and stroke my right side and that means a lot to me. I don’t necessarily like what I see when I look in the mirror, but I am getting used to it.

Our lifestyle right now isn’t exactly Rock and roll. But we have been able to return to socialising. On Wednesday we attended our local Munch and I caught up with Molly, Sub Bee and others. Thursday my brother visited and we had dinner out. Then on Friday I returned to my slimming group, had lunch with a friend and in the evening G and I went out to a concert. A busy few days indeed. 

Rest

Until the middle of this week, I was pacing myself well. I have been sleeping well at night and resting between activity. Even while in Oxford I didn’t feel especially tired. 

But yesterday I woke feeling exhausted. The emotional energy required to tell people about the event of the past few week is enormous. Doing so much on Friday was in hindsight a mistake and I see that I need to make sure I balance rest and activity. 

Feeling tired and emotionally drained made my mood low. I could easily have gone back to bed before lunch. Instead we walked into town and did a little shopping and then had lunch. Afterwards I took a nap and woke feeling much better. 

This coming week, I am going to try to work on the balance between rest, exercise and other activity. I have taken on a small piece of work that involves interviewing people by phone, collecting and reading some data and writing a report. It isn’t onerous but it is something else to juggle. There are also hospital visits once again. 

Over all, as I reach the end of week 3 I feel well. But recognise that as I increase activities I must take care not to over do things. Or to be too eager to get completely back to ‘normal’ life. 

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Ice Princess

The image above taken in the garden of my house before the move in July has been transformed through Prisma.

Master named it Ice Princess. It signifies the change from summer to winter. Since it was taken, my body has also transformed some what. I am not quite ready to show those changes, but happy to celebrate my body as it is here.

Sinful Sunday
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Cemeteries and Graveyards

I love to look around cemeteries and graveyards, I find them fascinating places. Particularly those containing the remains of people from long ago. I wander around looking at the names, dates of birth and death and wondering. A collection of graves, or a family tomb can help you create a picture in your mind of the lives people may have led. Did they live long lives, marry young or later on. Did they have children who died young, or did they go on to have families of their own? All questions with potentially no obvious answer.

A final Resting place
British Cemetery, Lisbon

Cemeteries abroad are often a little different from here in the UK. For a start they tend not to be near to a church. Catholic cemeteries in France and Spain are often large, containing large mausoleums, or little huts with coffins in side.

On one of our first holidays together Master and I travelled to Lisbon and there we discovered a magnificent cemetery specifically for British people. Though there were actually people from other nations buried there too.

Blight Valley Cemetery, The Somme

Last year we visited the area around the Somme in France, and saw the enormity of the loss of life from world war 1. Row after row of white headstones, many of which unmarked as the remains were of unknown soldiers. Beautifully kept with flowers between graves they quite took the breath away. In contrast the German graveyards were dark, sombre places. As with the allied graves though, they contained the bodies of young men. Many of whom were not, or barely out of their teenage years.

Fun in a graveyard

I can’t imagine wanting to strip off for photos, or to have sex in those places. It would be highly disrespectful and inappropriate. But I can imagine doing so in some of the old churchyards here in the UK. There is something daring but exciting about such a prospect. Perhaps it is the age of the graves and that often you can barely read who resides beneath. Or that they are often  quiet, spooky places with few visitors especially around dusk. Maybe the grass is overgrown and the plants a little uncared for, offering an opportunity to hide. I don’t know. But this does feel like an opportunity as yet unexplored.


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Road Trip

1. Tell us about the last road trip you made: When? Where did you go? How long was the overall trip? Did you go alone? Did you have fun?

I regularly go on trips to see my mum who lives 2 hours away, but our last proper road trip was in June. We picked up a hire care at the airport in Slovenia and then spent 2 weeks travelling around a good part of the country. We walked up hills, through forests, explored churches, stayed at a spa and the seaside and visited the capital city. We had lots of fun, including capturing a few Sinful Sunday shots. The pictures below were taken on our travels. 

A view of Lake Bled, Slovenia
Lake Bled, Slovenia
The mountains above Kobarid, Slovenia
Mountain views
2. Do you love to travel?

Most definitely. There are so many places I want to visit and whole areas of the world so far unseen. However we also like to go back to places we have been before, so there is a balance to be had. This year, as well as Slovenia we have visited Spain and France. I also took my mum to Cyprus. Plus there are the trips that we take in the UK. Some friends believe we are rarely at home!

3. What’s the best place you’ve been? Do you want to go back?

I am not sure I have one ‘best place’. I love Seville in Spain and have been a number of times, as I have the South West of France. A couple of years we went to Sicily which was wonderful. I would like to return there. 

4. Would you travel for sex? Have you traveled more than 50 miles just to have sex?

I have, yes. During my relationship with S, I spent the best part of 2 years travelling to his home for sex. The journey, while only 100 miles or so away took around 2 hours. In hindsight, I gave far more to that relationship, and made more sacrifices. However, he taught me a lot about myself and helped me learn about submission and BDSM. Even if some of that was what it wasn’t rather than what it was. Hopefully, I have no further need to such a relationship since I am with Master now. 

5. What sexual act or sex position do you struggle with doing?

I don’t think there is anything I struggle with particularly, you would have to ask him!

Bonus: What are you into but have not told anyone?

Again, I don’t think there is anything I haven’t told Master. My blog is something of an open book in relation to my kinks. 

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How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!

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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. 

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Contemplating the future

I’m pretty sure this photo has never appeared on Sinful Sunday, it was part of a set I produced for February Photofest in 2017. Master had bought me this beautiful little outfit, which nicely showed off my curves at the time. I was also very pleased with this edit, which is why I am reposting it today.

I am pretty sure that over the next few weeks I will be able to return to Sinful Sunday with some new photos. So many of the photos we (and I) shared in the past were of my breasts. There have been others of course (this is my 62nd Sinful Sunday photo according to the number of times I have tagged it). My legs, back, collar as well as my Master have featured. 

I would like to think that in future, I will want to show my new body shape in some way. But also for us to take photos of other parts of the body, hither too under represented. 

For today though, I hope people will understand my decision to share a photo from the past. 

Sinful Sunday
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Recovery- week 2

I am now 11 days into my recovery from mastectomy surgery and while I am still a little sore, I am healing well.

Physical recovery

Once the bruising started to come out, it was evident that it was widespread. Around the wound, towards my back and even on my remaining breast. After a few days the scar began to itch, I took this as a good sign. Everything was covered with dressings, which to begin with were waterproof. By Monday this week, though they were becoming wet and so I had to refrain from showering.

The drain site was the worst part. It gradually became more sore and I was constantly adjusting my bra. This is embarrassing since I was often lut when I needed to fiddle. Bloody fluid contined to to drain much to my annoyance. This meant that the nurses wanted to visit daily. We had things we wanted to do and we both became irritated with waiting in till 5pm. Other patients were more of a priority and so I only managed to be visited early once, on Sunday. They didn’t like me cancelling the visits even though it was clear I could manage the thing myself.

Thankfully, when I attended my appointment at the hospital on Wednesday the drain was removed. The site was on the verge of becoming infected and so this was the best option. There have been no I’ll effects and the swelling began to reduce almost immediately. I have a feeling that the drain was causing more problems than it was resolving.

The wound is healed, but there are still a few bruises and a little swelling under the arm. I can now step up the recommended exercises, which are necessary to make sure I regain full movement in my arm. It feels right and stretching my arm over my head is challenging at the moment.

I have found a company called Amoena that sells beautiful lingerie, swimwear and tops for people who have had breast surgery and have a bra and pants on order. If I am happy with quality etc. I may be spending a bit of money there.

Emotional recovery

In general I am feeling mentally strong. But certain events that have occurred over this last couple of weeks show that my mood can drop easily. For example the hospital transfer a couple of days after the operation made me weepy and very upset. Made worse by the confirmation this week that it had been unnecessary. Encounters with the nurses, a different one each time made my stress levels high. I am anxious about my body image and how it will affect our relationship going forward.

We have kept ourselves away from family and friends and this has helped. We have a way to go before I, he and we are comfortable with my body as it is now. I suspect that is something I will write about next week. Also in the coming days we will be seeing family and attending our local munch.

I feel ok speaking about the surgery and cancer with Master and close family but less sure of myself with others. I am clear though, I need to be open and not pretend nothing is wrong. This journey is far from over.

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Halloween and all that stuff

As a focus for scary stories the ghosts and gouls of Halloween are perfect. I love the idea of the dead haunting graveyards on all Hallows eve and can see why people would want to read about them, watch films and generally celebrate. I’m even taken with the idea of some sad ghost wanting to possess my body, to replenish his lifeblood, though I have little interest in erotic vampire fiction. I like stories that are weird or full of suspense, including ghosts and poltergeists but they are for all year round not just for 31st October.

I don’t think I’ve ever dressed up at Halloween, nor have I been to a party to celebrate. I’m not a party pooper and enjoy seeing people who’ve made an effort, but I don’t feel the need to join in. When my son was little we found costumes for him to wear, we held a party for he and his cousins and a couple of friends. We went trick or treating, but only to neighbours houses. We cut pumpkins and displayed them around the house, children love that kind of thing. Now, there are no children at home and so we can be Halloween free. Maybe

Halloween feels like a construct imported (not always well) from abroad- the USA to be presise. Maybe if I found myself in the USA at Halloween and experienced it there I’d feel different. But here in the UK it feels like we are not quite getting this thing right. From the end of August costumes, pumpkin sweet holders, plastic spiders and other stuff arrives in the shops. By the middle of September, the first pumpkins are appearing, but why? Unless they are small and are for cooking they aren’t going to last.

The very worst thing about Halloween is that once it is over, the shops try to make us think we are only days away from Christmas. Perhaps it’s best I don’t get started on that one!

Happy Halloween (in 6 days time)!

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A week on

Tomorrow it will be a week since my surgery. It has been a strange time. A period where I and we have had less control over events and our lives than we like. I know in the future we will look back on this time and recognise it was just a week. But right now, it has felt a lifetime.

I wrote about the day of the operation and my immediate thoughts here. Remarkably I was less than 24 hours post surgery. I was still under the influence of the anaesthetic and a strong pain killer taken over night. The disappointment of not being allowed home that day had subsided. I knew I wasn’t ready. But I did feel very well and positive. Sadly my positivity didn’t last that night.

In the afternoon I had a visit from the lovely Indie, who took time out of her sightseeing schedule to spend time with me. she brought chocolates and a friendly ear. We chatted and laughed as well as discussing some of the more serious aspects of this whole episode. 

Later that evening I developed haematoma. The operation had taken place in a hospital with no emergency facilities, and although there was an on call doctor, he wasn’t part of a surgical team. Around 11pm at night, he and I imagine the more senior doctors he sought advice from, decided I should move to another hospital. It is only a few miles away, but involved an ambulance, time in an assessment unit and then transfer to a ward. Suddenly I felt alone, scared and completely out of control. My bubble completely burst and over a period of a few hours I felt quite desperate. 

Looking back

I can see I was unrealistic about the size of this operation and the potential complications. It is also clear that those explaining things were pretty blasé about the risks. The chance of me ending up with a wound drain was high, yet I was told it was something I might have. 20% of women end up with a haematoma after mastectomy, and that is a reasonable risk. But I hadn’t really looked into it at all. We were told that it would likely be an overnight stay, but from where I sit now, I can see that was unlikely. 

I wonder why it is clinical staff are so keen to shed a positive light on recovery times. The fact that I went into this with such a rosy view has meant that what happened after was quite a shock to the system.

Getting out of hospital was quite a challenge on Thursday. My surgeon is based at the original hospital and seems to have a pretty heavy workload. So another doctor saw me on Wednesday and Thursday. He would have preferred me to remain in hospital but I had had enough. Because I still have the wound drain home services were set up for me. But I really didn’t want them. My long nursing career means I know how to manage a drain and understand what to look out for. Sitting around waiting for someone to measure the output is not something I want to do. I don’t think I was being difficult when I asked for Saturday off from visits. But it is not something they seem all that used to. 

Practical stuff

I have ordered a bag so I can carry the drain around. It arrived yesterday, but unfortunately I was out and the postman has taken it to the sorting office. Meantime I have a shoulder bag that is the right size and shape. I am getting quite good at hiding the tubing. And as with other things, people don’t really observe what is going on around them so I doubt many people have noticed. 

I discovered last week that Marks and Spencer have a range of post surgery bras. At the moment I need something front fastening and soft, so have this one. But have already found a company that sells colourful and pretty soft bras and have one on order. Soon I will buy something much more delicate. I want to be able to feel at least a little sexy. The insert I have is soft and while it feels odd I can see that it does look pretty normal from outside. 

I am pretty bruised – I even have a shiner on my remaining tit (I wonder how that happened). but at present the scar is hidden by dressings. My body looks weird to me and I know to him too. We are not quite ready or indeed able for him to explore it. But we are speaking about the changes to my body, my body image and what that might mean.

There is a long road ahead and it has only been a week, but we have coped amazingly well considering. I am not brave or special, I just want to be able to look back and know that I have managed this process in the best way I can. This might not have always made me popular, but I am not changing my personality for anyone. What is more, I could not have done this without the love, care and support of the man I love. The man who is my Master.