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)

Planning

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. 

Landmark

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!

Mid life crisis?

i am wondering whether i should have my nipples pierced. Probably the very idea is part of a whole midlife crisis i am currently going through. What else can it be?

i have known for a long time that there is a very short fuse between my nipples and my clit. i am pretty sure i could cum from nipple play alone given the right kind of stimulation from the right person. The first time i put clothes pegs (pins in the US) on my nipples while on the phone to Sir was a telling moment.He says he could tell i had put them on from the tone of my voice. i immediately felt amazingly turned on, it didn’t take much for Sir to make me cum.

Then the day in the woods, Sir introduced the nipple clamps which took me to a whole other level. I found that anything He did while they were on, just enhanced the experience. As Sir would say i am definitely a nipple slut.

We have talked a few times now about how things might be if i had my nipples pierced. To be honest i am now massively tempted. Turned on by the thought, and by the idea that is is something i would do for me and for Him. It is not something i could do without discussing with hubby though. He notices much more than he comments on and this is one thing i could NOT hide. Mind you i am approaching a rather massive birthday and it is time i had a midlife crisis.

Advice anyone?

Space to think

i like weekend mornings. i tend to get up reasonably early, and certainly earlier than hubby and son. There is no pressure to do anything, though of course there are things to do, and no thoughts of needing to be anywhere. I have the time to read other blogs properly and use that reading as a space to help me think. To think about me and about Sir. There are lots of things now that make me think about Sir and about our times together. Reading blogs, finding pictures, just thinking about what we do, all helps to centre my mind and to think clearly about Him.

Yesterday i was watching the Olympic cycling road race on TV. Sir is a cyclist and cycling fan so, while watching it i couldn’t help thinking about him and then the bit of the race where it looped 9 times round the countryside brought back some very real memories. Not far from there is the place where Sir and i spent a day outdoors. where i was tied to a tree, nipple clamped for the first time, where we had anal sex on a disused picnic table. As i watched the men cycling around the leafy, country lanes i couldn’t help but think about that day. i couldn’t help wish to repeat some of those things soon (and actually it is something we are thinking about).

This weekend Sir and i are not together, as we were last week. i am with my family, getting back on top of the things i need to do here. This weekend i don’t feel irritated about anything, i am doing what i want to do within the confines of what is usual and normal. Sir is out of contact, with his children, being a dad. i have spent a fair amount of time with my own son. After years of the uncommunicative teenager, the young man who has emerged has plenty to say, but listens too. He likes to talk to me about history (his university subject), about politics, about the world in general. I often think about Sir when we are having those chats because these are subjects i discuss with Him. I often think that He and son would get on well, would have plenty to say to each other. Hubby is different, he and i don’t discuss things in the same way (though he and son do talk), and that means that when son is not around there is less discussion, less conversation. Anyhow i am enjoying these months with son around, even though he generates more washing than the two of us together, even though he eats food more quickly than i can buy it and drinks his dad’s beer.

In October son goes off for his final year at university. The house will fall almost silent. i think that is the point at which i will have to make myself sit down with hubby and have a conversation about our future. i am pretty sure i can’t hold out for longer. Julia, at My personal thinking spot, wrote about marriage without sex recently. She asks whether marriage without sex can survive since it isn’t really a marriage at all. On one level, yes it can survive. i don’t really remember when hubby and i last had sex at all, but i could hazard a guess that it was around February time. What is more important is, when did hubby and i have sex where both of us were in any way satisfied? That i really don’t remember, but for a long time life has continued, we have had some pretty good times together other than in the bedroom. But now i have what i have with Sir i can see what it is i am missing and i don’t think i can live my life this way for very much longer.

As the fog of emotion clears

It has taken me a few days to get my brain back into gear, not that i have been a gibbering wreck you understand. Far from it. But it has been hard to separate out the actual events of the weekend with the emotions that went with it.

Yesterday i updated  my journey page, and maybe that has helped a little. Plus there is now distance between myself and the actual events, not to mention that Sir and i have replayed some of the events a few times.

On Monday i was a little anxious, since i felt really down. i couldn’t understand why i felt just so bad when i had felt fine the day before. But then i realised it had nothing to do with any kind of subdrop but was merely PMT. i felt a complete idiot!

So thinking back on events, what is really clear is that from the moment i arrive and enter Sir’s house, pretty much until i leave to come home, i am ready. Ready to wear what He wants, ready to be in the position He wants, ready to take His cock in any way he wishes. i also spend pretty much the whole time on the edge of an orgasm, what is more, this time i got so turned on that he was able to make me orgasm by nibbling my ear! A first for us both!

i am not usually all that keen on dressing up in sexy lingerie for the benefit of a man, but with Sir it is something that is not only expected, but also something i love to do. i never imagined i would sleep in stockings, i never imagined one of the first things i would do in the morning would be to put on a pair of heels. i never imagined i would want, need even to have anal sex so many times in a single weekend and love every moment. i never imagined i would be able to take Sir’s cock quite so deep into my mouth without gagging. As Sir says i am doing well with my training.

Long may it continue!

Conforming to the social norms

I have never been particularly rebellious, except perhaps in my own mind. I like the idea of speeding, but even if I had a really fast car I wouldn’t be able to manage say 100 miles an hour, after all it would make me nauseous.If I finish work early, even if I started early, I feel guilty. I have spent my life doing just what people expected of me, if I am doing something different I worry about what people will think of me.

Suddenly though I want to break the norm. I want to do something out of character, I want to tell people that Joolz – daughter, sister, mother, wife – she is not who you think she is.

I want to be brave. To tell people that actually the person they think I am is not really me.

Trouble is, am I brave enough to ask for, hell to say what I want?

Will people say I am selfish? After all what I want is probably a bit of everything. A bit of my 28 year marriage and the stability that goes with it. I want my job; it has taken 30 years to get to this level of satisfaction and pay. I want my family to love and respect me. I want my son to see me as the mother I have always been.

But I want the kind of experiences I get with Sir. I want to be able to leave town for a couple of days, to submit, to be submissive, to be bound, to be made to do humiliating and sexy things. I want listen to Sir’s jokes, to his knowledge of historical stuff. I want to eat the food he cooks, I want to snuggle up with him and I want to be fucked senseless by him.

Then I want to go home till next time.

A tall order? Selfish?. Yes.

Its what I want, but can I have it?

Probably not

A few reflections

The weekend was wonderful, the longest we have spent together, a special time. I am going to need more time to be able to write some coherent thoughts. For a start, I am quite tired. There wasn’t loads of time spent asleep, also while I feel really happy about all that we did, all that was said and done, my general mood today is low. Rather than be happy for what I have I want to cry for what I don’t have. This morning I am not with Sir and there is nowhere right now I would rather be.

Just as a taster, and so I don’t forget what I need to write about on here (as if I will), here are a few highlights. Arriving, being collared, and put in handcuffs (a new addition to the repertoire). Those wonderful minutes post waking when I had Sir’s cock in my mouth, Sir waking me yesterday with his fingers on my clit, orgasm after orgasm after orgasm, wow! Then there was the outside stuff, the lovely long walk on Saturday, on what appears to have been the first day of the British summer proper! Sir showed me the beautiful area within which he lives, walking on top of the cliffs looking at the wonderful views, then a picnic on the beach was just perfect. Then the humiliating walk I took late that night, along the sea front, dressed as a slut in very short skirt, barely covering my stocking tops, the crotchless thong not covering my backside one bit. Taking Sir’s cock in my mouth, in a seaside shelter, while cars passed us on the road behind and one or two people walked along the seafront.

The trouble with having such a wonderful time is that you just want more of it. Right now I am struggling to work out quite how to get it and that is getting in the way of my happy thoughts. Give me a few hours back at work to put things back into perspective and I am sure I can put anything negative aside and really reflect on the good.

More later.