Old times and New beginnings..

It's New Years Eve here in Australia.
The end of an eventful year for me, and the beginnings of another are just hours away.

I have faced court ordered property settlement, a hysterectomy, I have met the love of my life, moved hours away from my family and hometown to begin a new life with Him, I have a new car, and a new motorcycle.
I have lost friends, and gained new ones.
I have found out some of those trite cliches that everybody sprouts are actually more like home truths. And that those that have been through it, often are the ones to let you learn the hard lessons yourself. Sometimes learning the hard way is also the only way.

I have said goodbye to people that have played an important part of my life, and I have met others who will be a constant source of amusement, friendship and inspiration.

It hasn't been a huge year kink wise. In the last 12 months, I have managed only 2 kink events....3 if you count last New Years Eve. But I haven't missed it really. The public scene is great in small doses for me, but it is not where I want my kink life based permanently.

I look back, remembering last New Year's Eve, getting ready at a friends home, chatting with another girlfriend on why it was I was single.
I know I was a constant source of consternation to those who knew me. I didn't actively chase men, nor did I encourage their advances towards me. My "dickhead" radar serves me well, I knew who wanted what, and what I was prepared to give, and those who advanced wanted me not for myself, but for what they imagined I could give.
She asked me to list all those things I wanted in a man. I did try and tell her this was as fluid as a river, that what I wanted now didn't mean it was what I needed or what I would need in the future. Nevertheless, she asked me to list the superficial things that turned me on, the things that given a choice, would accompany brains, intelligence and a sense of humour.

My reply?

Tall.
Standing 5'9" and having a penchant for high heels, I like to still remain shorter than those I stand beside. (in a romantic sense, most of my friends are 4 feet fuck all tall)

Dark.
The one time I deviated from this...it landed me in a bad marriage.

Bald.
I liked the idea of the freshly shaven head. I had never had the opportunity, but I wanted to try it.

Tattoo's
As the owner of 5 tattoo's (at the time) I appreciated those whose art choice were worn on their body as mine are.

Bikie/Trucker.
This is where my inner rev head slut appears. There is nothing better than a machine revving between your thighs, or the vibrations that pass through your body as a truck descends with its engine brakes on.

I figured, as long as I could get somewhere close to that list, I was going to do ok. It would at least take care of the sexual attraction bit. At least.....on my behalf.

I quickly then added 'Accent'
I am an accent slut. I have been known to hold completely inane conversations with total strangers for the simple reason, that they had an accent. Similarly, I have been known to follow men around the supermarket because they smell a certain way.

She laughed at me.

So there we were, half dressed, no makeup, she is laughing so hard she is nearly peeing her pants and I am frowning.
She gets out her phone, sends a text message and says not much more on the subject.

We ventured out and about. To a kink club. With other friends.

She then informs me, I should not be surprised if I get a message on Fetlife in the next couple of days. She has recommended that a friend of hers send me a message.
Being the insatiably curious girl I am, I then ask who.....quickly backing it up with the excuse of needing to know who she had sent in case I got other requests from our night out. She tells me, and I ponder the fact it might be lucky the car was stationary, lest I drive into something in my shock.

The gentleman she had messaged was a play partner of hers, and one I had already perved on from the comfort of my couch.

He messaged the next day, hungover. And as best I can recall, that was the extent of the communication for the next 2 weeks.

Next event....who happened to be there??? Said handsome perved upon gentleman.
Annnnd being the matchmaker she is, my friend had coached him into greeting me with an Irish saying, spoken (of course) in the thick Irish accent.

That was it.
I was done for.
Excitement ran down my leg....literally!

It was the beginnings of something I had no idea would result in the things it has.

2 weeks from that day, we had our first date. It lasted more than 8 hours, and ended with my declaration of love....and Him riding His motorcycle into the sunset.

Almost 12 months later, I love Him more today than I did then.
We are combined under 1 roof, kids, cats motorcycles and all.

Tonight I am not preparing myself for a kink event. I am not even preparing myself to leave the house.

What I am doing is contemplating on how many Wii games that 5 kids will have me playing, or how many popcorn kernels will I have to vacuum off the floor tomorrow.

I love you MY Sir, and even though you are not able to be here with me tonight at midnight, know that you mean the world to me.

I love you always.

I am yours forever more.

You are my everything and my happiness.

My Happiness

the humiliated slut..

She lies on the bed, bound and blindfolded.

There is music playing softly, loud enough to muffle the rifling of the war bag, but not loud enough to hide the click of the camera.

He is out there, taking pictures of her exposed body, the parts of her she hides from the world.
The thighs that are fatter than she likes.
The stretch marked stomach that is evidence she has given birth to children.
The breasts that are smaller than she always dreamt of having.
The scars from surgeries to correct her health.
Every mark and blemish on her body is in full view of Him and His camera.

If He was any other man, she would be feeling humiliated.

Humiliated and exposed.

Dirty and degraded.

Used and abused.

And yet... with Him, she feels loved.
Wanted.
Desired.
Trusted.
And respected.

The clicking stops.

His hands touch her body instead of the camera.

His fingers touch her, open her, expose her to His view.

He can see inside her, see the place His cock goes, His tongue goes, and His fingers enter.

He holds her open, using various toys on her clit. Playing with immeasurable patience. Taking His time, gauging her every reaction, seeing which affects her more.

She struggles mentally between the desire to relax and enjoy His ministrations, and the desire to hide from Him. The teachings of believing having someone do this to you is dirty and wrong. Her body knows which desire overrides the other. The wetness He sees tells Him that this turns her on.

He knows every inch of her body.
He has touched and played, teased and tortured.

The things they do may seem humiliating to some.
The names He calls her are not those acceptable in a public forum.
The things they do are not those her mother 'talked' to her about, prepared her for.

And yet....each and every thing they do, each and every name He calls her, each and every time He touches her, she loves Him more.

a slut in control...

I was given the opportunity this week to take control.

In the bedroom.

Sexually.

Presented with a naked male and told I had complete control to do whatever I wished.

*insert major panic attack*

Not a random male.

Sir.

I faltered. I am pretty sure I stuttered, and I am damn sure my eyes were wider than saucers.

"Ummmm, you do know that the bit about being a sub means NOT taking control right?" was the first thing out of my mouth.

"But, but.........I, ummm, errrrrrr, oh boy, sheesh" was next.

In that sixty seconds I realised that NOT taking control has become a habit I don't want to give up.
I was lost. I don't remember ever taking control like Sir was offering, and to be honest, it had no appeal. But in that instance I realised something..... It must get tiring to always be the one to make the decisions, to be the one who takes control, who plans what will happen next, with no input from a loving partner. (Moans, squeals and squeaks don't count as input, just so you know)

He reads me very well. In the past few weeks, Sir has seen close up and personal to the stress that I allow get to me occasionally, and the sassiness in me takes over. But it is an unconscious behaviour, and not one I had noticed until Sir pointed it out to me. He has become adept at taking that stress and beating it out of me with great success. I turn into Suzy Homemaker afterwards apparently. Cooking, cleaning and smiling a LOT.

But there are times when we want mostly normal adult raging hot fucking and kinky sex time, without it being to de-stress one of us, and it's those times that I am sure it becomes exhausting to always be the one to 'make the first move' and always be in control. Having said that, I have absolutely no interest in being in control and making any decisions in that scenario.

Hmmmmm impasse.


I am coming to respect the Dominants in a different way than I have before, as I suspect they often feel the same way about submissives. There is something innately awe inspiring about watching someone successfully achieve something that is a completely foreign concept, that often you cannot imagine undertaking yourself.

I don't want to take control, and therefore, am in awe of those who can and do with success.

Sir amazes me when He reads my moods, correctly judging those times I crave the need to feel control, HIS control.

But maybe, just maybe, I need to be more proactive in a submissive way in those 'in between times'

make up your mind..

I have been pondering on why it is that I haven't felt the need to blog lately, and have come up with zilch. The fact that life is hectic and busy is probably part of it, the fact that kink is hard to find time for these days is probably another. The fact that I am busy enjoying new vanilla friends, a new job, a new house, a new garden, and a whole new life is also part of things.

But for the most part.... I have generally had nothing to blog about.

BDSM seems to have taken a back seat in our life.

I don't mean this to sound as if Sir and I are vanilla... far from it. He still randomly bites me, I still ask permission for orgasms, and last weekend I learnt that calling Sir a cunt gets me punished with various implements when I get home, but other than the occasional 'mini' session, life is pretty vanilla. And more wonderful than I expected.

Sure, I often daydream about what might happen if we got a few hours together.....alone..... with no kids. Then we get them, and we do the things we can't do with 5 kids in tow... shopping, housework, gardening, general errands and then it's school collection time and our alone time comes to an end.

Sometimes I miss it, other times I don't.

The more stressed I get, the more I crave. And it is odd, because I have become addicted to orgasms, but yet, I often crave control that is non-sexual.

Being expected to have done something, to do something that is asked, to wear something in particular, all small controlling actions that have a huge affect on my psyche.

I guess this mini blog is proof that you can just never know what goes on in a submissive girl's head.

The lucky slut....

Do you know why I am lucky??

No...good. Grab a coffee and find a comfy seat, I'm about to tell you.

Two years ago....

I was newly single. BDSM had never entered my world except for the occasional joke about me wearing thigh high boots and using handcuffs on guys who pissed me off. Never in my life have I owned or worn thigh high boots, nor at that time, had I ever used handcuffs.

I had the reputation of being a bitch. This came about from the guy who's front teeth I punched out when he refused to stop grabbing my arse on a dance floor while out with some friends.

I knew what I wanted, and what I didn't. I am, and always have been a headstrong female. I like to get what I want, but unlike most women I know. I ask, or I get it for myself. I refuse to play stupid juvenile games to get things. Means more to me if I work for it and earn it.

I was not in a relationship of any kind. I was not WANTING a relationship of any kind. I was enjoying the freedom to do what I wanted, when I wanted without being made to feel guilty when I went out.

Over that 12 month period, I delved into BDSM. I began to explore the kinky side of me I had hidden through shame. The feelings of sexual arousal from 'kinky' things no longer made me feel ashamed, no longer did I have to deny it. There was this whole world of people just like me out there, people who revelled in being 'kinky' It opened my eyes a LOT.

I met a guy, a Dom, who became my Master. Over the next 9 months, I learnt more than I thought possible, but I know I never gave it everything. I always held back a part of me. Not through shame, or the desire to keep secrets, but with the knowledge that this was a temporary relationship. I wasn't about to hand over everything to someone I knew would eventually walk away.
Looking back, it was not an entirely emotionally healthy relationship, but it was exactly what I needed at the time. Some who paid some attention, someone who could communicate and something temporary to help me get through the end of a 14 year relationship. Sounds harsh, but it worked for the both of us, we both got what we wanted at the end of the day.


One year ago..........

I hit the end of that D/s relationship. It had taught me a lot. What I wanted, and what I didn't. It taught me to value myself like I hadn't known how to do before. It taught me I had a lot to offer someone...one day.

I began to venture into the public kink scene. I was enjoying that single feeling again..this time with a lot more confidence than I had before. I knew what I was worth, and that only someone deserving would get the things I had to offer.

One year ago, I could honestly tell you that the only person in the world who supported me was me.
I did everything. On my own. By myself. I was the strong one....always. When I needed to let go, I cried in the shower, got out, and got on with it.


This week....

This week has shown me how lucky I am.
It has been a HUGE month, emotionally.
Sir and I are moving in together...or rather, I am moving in with Sir and his kids...taking the total of kids at our dinner table to 5 every night.
I have been packing the house that I have lived in for 15 years.
I have been dealing with kids who fluctuate between 'I dont wanna go' and raging excitement in the space of 5 minutes flat.
I have been dealing with an ex who is threatening to take me to court.
I have been dealing with friends and family who have been less than supportive at times.
I have been dealing with the internal emotions of leaving what is my hometown, and the only place my kids have ever lived.
All the while, internally excited about starting a new life with Sir and his kids in a new place.
Yesterday I came crashing down.
Last day of school for the kids resulted in tears from all and sundry. The teachers, the kids, the friends, the Principal, and me. I guess to them, the finality of it all hit.
I sat looking at the chaos in the house, half packed, crap everywhere, things to get rid of, things to store, things to pack, things to sell... all things no one can help me with.
I didn't have an emotional 2 cents to rub together.
I decided I needed to see Sir more than I needed anything else.
So I got in the car.

This is where the lucky bit cuts in....

I got there, opened the door and was almost immediately enveloped in a hug. I was told to go lay on the bed.
My shoes were removed, a drink handed to me and Sir held me in His arms for a good 20 minutes...knowing intuitively that I didn't want to talk, explain....that I needed Him, silence and support.
He told me He loved me. He held me. He wiped away the tears.
He asked me where my collar was, told me to get it and sat in the chair, a pillow at His feet.
I knelt before Him, while He buckled my collar on, then stroked my hair as I knelt at His feet, my head on His knees.

We don't have a conventional D/s relationship.
I occasionally tell Him to get fucked. I often stick my finger up at Him. I can be cheeky. I am often a smart arse. I am stubborn when it comes to doing things for myself, but at the same time, pushy at Sir when I want to help Him with something he is doing.
He appreciates me for my strength, admires my independence and enjoys the sexual self confidence I have, but those things are all outweighed by what I get in return.

I get His respect.
I get His communication.
I get His unconditional support.
I get His Dominance.
And most of all, I get His love.

He appreciates me for who I am, not who He thinks I should be, or who He wants me to become.

How lucky can one girl get??

Frustrations....

I had an epiphany tonight.

The more I have to control things around me, the stronger I have to be, the more I crave control from someone else, the more I need to feel that submission.

Am I saying I cannot control my own life??
No. Not in the slightest.

What I am saying is the more controlling I am in my everyday life, the more the craving of submission increases.

Play has been the last thing on our minds lately, and to be honest, I haven't missed it a whole lot.... BUT

I am craving control.
I am currently micro managing every thing around me. I NEED to be as organised and efficient as I can be, and not far from the back of my mind is the need to feel like someone else is controlling just a small part of me.

I don't know how to go about easing these feelings, I don't even have a suggestion on what might help.

This is as frustrating to me as anything can be.

I HATE not being able to offer a solution/suggestion to a problem, whether it be mine or someone else's.

Things are a bit emotionally up and down here at the moment, and I know that increases my frustrations no end, every day brings a solution to one problem and 5 more problems at the same time.
I am feeling like I am not getting anywhere, and yet, I know that is not true.

I am contemplating making a list of all my lists.... that will be the straw that breaks the camel's back.

I KNOW I can get through this.
I KNOW it is just a temporary thing.
I KNOW there is an end in sight.
I KNOW I am getting somewhere in the things I need to do.

But at the moment, I feel like I am sinking in a cesspool of uncontrollable emotions, and that I don't like.

Luckily, I know I am loved and supported, and that is something I have never been sure of before.
It is also those two things that get me through every day without dissolving into a big pile of weeping woman/emotional wreck/panicked psychopath.

Caught in a school uniform...kinky style...

I blogged in my last post that I missed the control by way of tasks.

Sir hasn't been one (in the past) to assign me tasks. And it is something I do occasionally miss, but more often than not am grateful for.
While I enjoyed the finished product so to speak, more often than not I found them to be time consuming when I didn't have time, and distracting when I was busy.

Yes, I am aware this is probably sounding like the complete opposite of what I have said in a few recent posts, but it comes after some soul searching about which tasks I liked and which I hated.

I did enjoy the simple tasks, the writing on the body, the denial of underwear, things that were easily done in a second during the day.
The others...meh, not so much.

Sir text me today that He was horny, so, in usual Sassy style, I took a pic of my tits with "this help?" written on my abdomen.
I was in a provocative mood..so sue me.

Texts when back and forth for a little while, and one contained the idea that we could cam online together...this was me eager to watch Sir touching His cock, and watching Him cum for me...something I love.

I then hinted I was prepared to stay home tonight from a casual get together that was organised if He wanted to make the drive to my place.....more teasing, I know.

It was like a switch had been flipped, I then was instructed to take a pic of me fingering my cunt, while wearing a school dress, and it just so happens, I have one of those I save for special occasions.

Task underway, I went to the bedroom with my iPhone and Laptop and got changed, leaving off the underwear and did as I was told.
The next instruction was to find my oldest bra and put it on.
Cutting the cups to make a peephole bra was the idea, as I soon found out.
Pic sent, I was then told to finger myself, and report as to how wet I was.
I guess by this point you could have called it 'sexting'

Before I knew it, I had porn on the laptop, phone in hand, texting Sir while playing with my cunt.

I heard the front door open and dived for my dressing gown, thinking in horror I was about to have to explain why I was wearing a peep hole bra, no panties, a short SHORT, unbuttoned school dress and white socks an hour before I had to collect the kids from school.
I just had a hand on the gown and Sir appeared at the bedroom door.

Unceremoniously thrown back on the bed, I was then shown who was Boss, and what happens when you tease and poke a sleeping bear.

A surprise visit, some rough sex, some knife play to remove my bra, and the result was me needing a shower before school pick up.

I think Sir found out today why I love those pic tasks so much, and He saw first hand what it does to me.

3 small things....

In a conversation with a friend today, we discussed her views on BDSM, and all that encompasses.
For her, there is 3 definable aspects, Psychological, Physical and Domestic.

The physical comes with and/or without sex dependant on who she is playing with. (As far as I know, Hubs is reserved the right to the sex part.) It can be beatings, spankings, needles and other assorted things, but it is not the act as such, more the mind space the actions place her in.

The domestic is something I have had little experience with. It is the responsibilities of maintaining her home. Being expected to do certain things around the house, or as she puts it "making sure she is not an all around lazy fuck"

The psychological is the ability to allow someone to play inside your mind. And finding someone who is a. actually able to stimulate you enough psychologically, and b. be someone you trust enough to allow to roam around in there can be a monumental effort in itself.

She feels lost because she finds herself in a place where she is getting bits and pieces of those things from varying places, in differing people.

It got me thinking..... Is it possible to get all three components from one person?

I am sure somewhere, someone has all three in their lives, but are they completely fulfilled with what they have? or are they so desensitised to kink and all things BDSM that they too crave something more?

I get the physical...with sex.
I am curious as to what the physical may be like without sex, but I don't play with others, so that is something I will discuss with Sir.

The domestic I get a touch of in a bizarre kind of way.
Between Sir and I, we have 5 kids, so I am always conscious of cleaning as I go when they are all around, I am also just as happy to sit on the couch and fold His washing when we are alone and He is watching TV or playing on the interwebz with the boys.
My one and only task domestic wise is to change the doona (quilt) covers. It is Sir's pet hate, which makes me feel useful, which it a trigger for me to feel like I have pleased Him.
But ultimately, because we do not share a house, my house is my responsibility and He feels that His house is His responsibility.

The psychological, well that is a hard one for me.
While I am very aware that Sir will always be one step ahead of me in this department, I sometimes feel like that part is something I don't have outside the times we play.
I am probably wrong (usually am) He probably plays with my head so gently I don't even see it, or He (as suggested to me) may be playing in such a manner that it is building slower than I have been used to, OR I am right (there's a first) and He isn't dipping in there at all unless we are playing.

Which brings me to having a D/s relationship over a distance, and the 'in-between' times.

I have blogged many a time about being controlled, feeling it, and the days where I struggle. My last post was about me feeling like I am missing something.

It is the control. But it is also the mind fuck. And by mind fuck, I don't mean hours of talk, or pushing boundaries, for me it can be as simple as

"Go write X on your tits and text/email me a pic, you have 15 minutes"

or

"Get the buttplug and wear it to collect the kids from school"

or

"Masturbate for as long as it takes you to get to the edge, then text me for permission to cum"

or

anything He chooses that I can physically do that puts me in the submissive mind set.

To me, the mind fuck is the trigger that switches me from the capable, assertive, intelligent woman I am, to the submissive woman.
It can be one sentence - typed, emailed,  a few words - spoken, whispered or yelled, or it can be long conversations.

It is the content, and the person behind the content, not the act.

A stranger can tell me to send a pic of my tits and they get a 'fuck off' in response.

If Sir said it, I would melt, hurry to obey and feel all squishy and clenchy inside in an instant.

The whole thing is a journey of learning.
What grossed me out and pushed my boundaries a year ago, now seems like an everything day to do and doesn't provide the spark of breathless excitement it used to. Part of that is that before...everything was new and like a honeymoon phase of a relationship, everything is new and exciting. And the other part of that is I have come to love things that I thought I would hate. And the breathless excitement used to be with fear, and now it is a sigh of pleasure at what is to come.

I don't think everyone can find all the things they need in the ways they wish it from the one person.. I think it is about compromise. Finding the things you HAVE to have, getting those from the person you love the most and compromising on the rest.

The few things I will never compromise on are

a. Sir in my life, by my side, and in my heart.
b. Being someone's priority and not an option.
c. Being valued for who and what I am.

Thank God those are things I have in my life now.
Even on the bad days, those things make me smile.

and the walls go up....

Like most of us, I have days where I struggle emotionally.

Today is one, yesterday was also.

And I don't mean I have depression, or that I am a slobbering mess perched on the sofa with copious amounts of chocolate and chick flicks... just that I have days where I feel 'off'.

The best word I can think of to describe it is.. disconnected.

I feel distanced emotionally from Sir.

Some days it is when I am craving control of some sort, possibly the days where I miss the tasks that I had a love/hate relationship with, other days I just feel alone. It annoys me that some days there seems to be no reason for it.

The stupid thing is I can feel whats happening to me, and I can feel the invisible walls of protection rising inside of me. I already know- that is when I seem to hold back emotionally, to not share things as easily, if at all.
When I feel alone, I feel the need to protect myself.
I 'back off' so if the hurt comes, I am a little prepared.

There is no hurt coming my way that I know of, so these feeling are in no way, shape or form justified, they are simply something that I have obviously done over the years to protect myself emotionally. And I gather it is not something I can turn off at will.


I try my hardest not to be a needy sub, to not demand attention. If I need it, I can usually find the words to ask for it, without being whingy and whining. But there are some days where I seem to need something more than others.

I have no idea what the something is....but I am working on it.
In the meantime, I am doing my best to keep those walls of protection from rising too far.

Marked forever His...

The time since I last blogged about the nipple clamps has been pretty much vanilla and D/s free.

What surprises me about that is I am actually ok with it.

In all honesty, I am probably more than ok with it.

Have I missed the kink? Yes

Have I missed feeling submissive? Yes

Have I felt the normal cravings for control?? No...they seem to have gone walkabout.

In the time since I first began this BDSM journey, I have fluctuated between saying I could no longer live without kink of some kind, and the insistence that Sir means more to me than kink ever could.

Could I give up kink to keep Sir?? Yes

Do I have to?? Not that I am aware of.

Why is this rambling shit even worthy of a blogpost?? I have no clue.

It has been a huge 2 weeks for Sir and I. And the 3 weeks prior to that haven't been much better.

We have had little to no time alone in 5 weeks...this is where I can now truly sympathise with those married couples who live kink 24/7 with kids in the house constantly.

Am I craving time with Sir alone?? Yes, but it is in a different way than normal.

I want a sleep in.
I want a ride on the motorcycle with no deadline to be home.
I want a coffee at 'our' special coffee shop in the hills.
I want to walk around naked.
I want to get drunk and not worry about kids and my hangover not blending well.
I want loud music.
I want peace and quiet.
I want everything.

I just need Sir..nothing more and nothing else.

I know I sound like a normal woman in love when I say this, but He is my hero.
The last 5 weeks have shown me more about Him than the 5 months before that.

Something about seeing someone under pressure, in a situation that is not normal and watching how they cope with stress, life, illness and pressure often gives you an indication of what is true and real.
There is no time or inclination to put on a false facade, to pretend to be someone you're not.
And I am not saying that is what Sir has done, what I am saying is I have watched over the last 5 weeks and realised He is my hero.

Did He leap tall buildings or stop bullets?? No

What He did do was make me fall in love all over again.

If I can be half the parent He is, I will be happy.
If I can be half the partner to Him that He is to me, I will be happy.
If I can show Him half the love I have felt Him give to me, I will be happy.
I will always strive to be the best I can be for Him, to make sure I never get complacent and forget to make sure He knows how much I appreciate Him and the things He does for me.

I have sat and designed about 6 different tattoo's over the last 4 months. ( There is a long wait when you want the best tattoo artist around) I wanted a tattoo on my foot....(that is a whole nother blog post on its own,) but the end result was me designing a tattoo around the word "Sir"

I am honoured to be marked His.

I like mine kinky.....

I have used been told to use clothes pins (pegs to all the Aussies) on my nipples.

I have had them pinched by fingers.

I have had them bitten.

I have had them sucked.

I have had them sucked into large syringe type things with suction play.

Up until a few weeks ago...I had never had the pleasure of using nipple clamps.

Sir surprised me mid play by putting nipple clamps on me.

I will say, previous to that, I was nervous about the thought of them, having heard stories of how much they hurt...and having never been one to enjoy nipple play in the past. But, I was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed it.

Feeling Sir yank on the chain sent a direct fizzle of excitement straight to the clit...leaving me feeling decidedly "clenchy" on the inside.

(Boys...this is the female equivalent of being so hard it hurts.)

My cunt actually clenches involuntarily looking for something to grip onto.

Only issue I had with the clamps was they never seemed to be tight enough and with a little tug, they slipped off.

I went shopping the next day for a set of clover clamps. Needless to say...the shop I went to didn't have any.

But they did have this very pretty pair with beads and danglies.

The past couple of weeks have been hectic, both of us busy, both of us sick with the winter cough and cold that seems standard, and up until last night, they hadn't been used.

Last night Sir was in an unusual mood.
I had been particularly cheeky, teasing Him on and off during the day, but when the kids had all been put to bed...I was about to pay for the Sassy mood I had been in.( why these moods surprise Him, I will never know. He knew me as Sassy before He knew my real name. Surely the name gives a clue??)

He teased me a little, yanking my hair, being rough, calling me all those names I love to hear out of HIS mouth.....then He asked me what I wanted.

I was a little hesitant to answer, but the yank on the hair and Him repeating the question had me sure He was waiting for an answer...and quickly.

It is something that I am not entirely comfortable with.
I feel like it shouldn't be about what I want, but having said that, I do understand the reasoning that He cannot always know how I am feeling. He points out to me that even when I answer those types of questions...this is no guarantee that I will get what I ask for. I can tell Him I want a cup of coffee....but I may get tea instead. I still get a hot drink, just not what it is I am craving.

"Please Sir...may I have the nipple clamps, the butt plug, the hitachi and the blindfold?"

I didn't get the blindfold, but I was face down anyway.

I did get the butt plug...but not the small one I was expecting.

I did get the nipple clamps, but not until I was "whimpering and pleading" permission to cum.

(Sir has really taken a liking to making me beg for permission and denying me for what seems like forever before granting it)

I was borderline finding out what punishment I would receive for cumming after I had been told not to when the clamps went on. It was instantaneous and involuntary. I was on the edge in seconds.

Some more "whimpering and pleading" later.... the hitachi went on my clit, while Sir fucked me.. I had the clamps on my nipples and the butt plug up my arse.

I thought I had died and gone to heaven.
I also thought I may pass out from the strength of the orgasm I was finally allowed to have.

Most girls like jewellery. I like mine kinky.....

Shoes, Shoes and more shoes!!!!

I have a thing for feet.

Hate them.

Disgusting vile things they are.

Toejam, manky nails, callouses, ugly feet, big feet.... even typing that sentence made me dry retch.

The single only reason I haven't asked a Doctor to cut mine off is.......


SHOES!!!!

I lurve shoes.

Especially heels.

HIGH heels!!

BOOTS

God love em... I love em all.

red, pink, green, black, purple, orange...any colour heels and I love every single pair.

If I were richer....I am betting my nickname would be Emelda.

I have found a haven for shoes.

Funky shoes.

Heels

Boots

Even those shoes I would never let my mother see me wearing.

And even better...the owner is a spunky and handsome kinky guy.

I am about to break the self imposed ban on new shoes just to buy a pair from his website... I have been eyeing them off for a couple weeks as the website slowly got built.

I think you should go check the shoes out.....and more importantly BUY SOME.

Great return policy, always impeccable service and the best range I have seen for kinksters in a LONG time (like forever)

You can find the link HERE


Let me know what you think, and I promise I will upload a pic of me wearing my new shoes as soon as I decide between the 15 pairs I have my eye on!!!

Why can't I be normal???

There are some days I wish like fuck I was a normal girl.

That BDSM had never entered my life.

That my relationship was just like everyone else's.


Some days I am jealous of the vanilla's.

Please Sir...may I cum??

It has been no secret that I have had issues with orgasms in the past.

To put it bluntly... I didn't.
I did by myself..but never with a partner.

I do now.
Insert big cheesy grin

They require a little time and patience, but I do get there.

Do I have an orgasm every time Sir and I have sex??
No.

There are times when He takes what He pleases (which I love) and vaginal sex is not something I can orgasm from.
I need direct clitoral stimulation.
Vibrator or tongue. Fingers don't seem to do the job since I got my clit hood pierced.

Last night was a first for me.

Some snuggling in bed after the kids were asleep turned into me getting my nipples pinched and pulled, which evolved into some violet wand play which left me wriggling on the bed like a fish out of water, which then turned into me getting oral sex.

It is not something I was ever really comfortable with before, but since I get orgasms...it is high up there on the favourites list now.

Sir has come to know my body and reactions very well...He knows exactly where to lick, suck and touch to get me to orgasm.
Last night however...things were a little different.

The norm for me is to ask permission before orgasm, which is something like

"Sir..please may I cum?"

To which I normally get a "Yes, you may"

Last night I got a "No you can't"

The sassy cheeky devil in my head said "What the fuck? You have GOT to be kidding. NO??"

The actual sound that came out was "Ohhhhhhhhh god"

Sir stopped licking that exact spot for all of about 30 seconds and went right back at it.

I asked again.

Again He said No.

And again, and again, and again.

By this point I wanted to cry. Part of me wanted to cum so bad it was hurting and the other part was wondering if I DID get permission, would I even be able to at this point?
I am damn sure He could hear the begging in my voice as I repeatedly asked permission, only to be denied.
He rose above me and began to fuck me, whispering in my ear that He owned my orgasms, and I was not allowed to cum until He said, telling me I was His dirty slut, pulling my hair back, hand at throat, all the things He knew would turn me on more and more.
Then He went back to licking me, getting me right back to where I had been on the edge for what seemed like an eternity.

I asked yet again, this time to finally be granted permission, but I had asked about 25 licks too soon, and it felt like I was never going to get over that edge.
Sir's knowledge of my body was on show as He felt me on the edge and pushed the button I needed pushed...sending me into space.

It went on and on and on and on and on until I wanted to cry from the exquisite pain I was in.

I then got fucked hard. Hard enough that I thought I would have trouble walking today.

I had my first lesson on Orgasm denial. I am not entirely sure I liked it, but I guess thats not the point is it?

The "slave" number issue.......

I found a blog.

There's a surprise... NOT

But I digress and before I continue.. I warn you.. Please read the following with sarcasm inserted in the appropriate places. If you cannot tell where the sarcasm needs to be, this post may not be suitable for you.

Anyway, I found this blog.. written by a "slave".

I am not normally one to publicly criticise someone for sharing their feelings and documenting their journey, but I am going to, without guilt, due to the fact that I am not posting a link, nor is she ever likely to read my blog and feel bad.

Every post she has written makes me cringe.
Badly spelt, words inappropriately placed which alter the whole meaning of the point she is attempting to make, grammar seems to be a dirty word, and yet, her whole tone is that of someone who is educated.
This is an educated woman in her 40's from what I can gather, not a young 18 year old with a "drop out" degree from the school of hard knocks.

But I read on, curious as to whether she actually has a point to get to, it can be almost like a car accident.. you know you don't really want to see the carnage, but you cannot stop yourself watching.

She has a slave number.

And I can hear you saying "What's your point?"

My point is thus....

I have always held the belief that when someone is given the gift of a slave number, that their Domly Dom type is the person who is doing the registering.
Kinda like getting a collar.
You don't just go shopping for your own collar, then present it to yourself, or god forbid, just show up wearing one. (unless it is just a fashion accessory)
They are actually supposed to mean something.
(This is also the reason I will never EVER buy my own wedding ring)(again)

Similarly...the slave number.

If your Domly Dom type wants you to have one, my thoughts are he will get it and present it when the slave is deserving.

Noooooo, this badly blogging slave asked permission and then went out and got her own.

Good for her!!

Now.... I ponder, does it mean the same when you have to get your own?

Does the coffee not taste better when someone else makes it?
Does food not always taste better when someone else cooks?
Does the car not always sparkle a little more when someone else cleans it?

Does that collar not mean more that you earn it?

Maybe she did earn it I hear you say.....

Maybe she did. And if she did..does she not wonder why her Master didn't make the effort to do something like that for her?
After all, her whole world revolves around pleasing him....

If I went out and got my own slave number..it would mean jack shit to me..permission granted or otherwise.

Threesomes.....

Something that has been on my mind this week is threesomes.

I am a threesome virgin.

But the idea of being at the mercy of two males, to use as they pleased...turns me on.

Double penetration...or add a toy of some sort and make it a triple penetration...makes me curious.

Sir has always given me the impression that He is unlikely to ever share me with another..even on a one off basis.
And I will admit to taking some security in that. It is nice to know He protects me that much.
But after a comment made about filling all my holes, combined with a blog post elsewhere on the thoughts of a male Dom on threesomes, and a couple of posts about others who have had them, all have me thinking more about it.

I shared the blog post with Sir and was surprised by His reaction.
He indicated it was something that had been on His mind lately also.

I asked why the apparent change of mind about sharing me and got the answer "because I trust you"

Am I shopping for someone to play with us??

Not in a pink fit.

Would I if asked?

If I was made to...otherwise I wouldn't.

If Sir wants to share me with another, I would rather it be someone I don't know, someone I won't have contact with again. I never want this to be an issue between us, bring a friend into it would only cause doubts as far as I can see.

But how do you find a person to trust who you don't already know and won't see again?.... that is the dilemma in my head that makes me think I will just have to keep it as a fantasy.

Luckily for me... there are toys we can use to fill more than one hole at a time.

Kneeling for Sir...

Sir and I found out earlier today that we get most of the weekend together with no kids.
School holidays start for us this Friday, and my kids are gone for a week with their father, so for once.. I do not have to rush home before our weekend is over.


Chatting earlier tonight, Sir called me a smart arse, then proceeded to tell me my arse will smart over the weekend.


Part of me sighed with relief that we will get some play time... part of me then knew I needed to explain to Sir what was going on in my head, so He can make the decisions with all the facts.


Sometimes I feel like it is easier to write things down as if I am telling a stranger, rather than tell Him direct...a little like letting Him peek inside my mind without me feeling like I am topping from the bottom.


His response to the thought of peeking inside my head 


"I  try but sometimes I need a miners lamp, a machete and a big bottle of holy water"


I am going to make the assumption He was being smart and not serious. I like to think I am a fairly simple kinda gal, straight forward and blunt, without the neurosis some women have.


Either way... He is qualified to dip around in there and the machete and holy water are only optional navigation aides.


I am absolutely looking forward to some serious play time...it feels like it has been forever. (I do know it hasn't really been thaaaat long)


But you know what??? 


More than anything I am craving a mental fuck.
I want Him inside my head, teasing and tormenting me with words, pushing me to the edge, making me a quivering, sobbing mess of emotional woman on her knees.


I may or may not also want a light touch of a flogger or two, maybe the crop if I get warmed up first, possibly some hitachi torture.... I really don't know what it is I want, and it matters little anyway, what happens will not be my choice, BUT, It is not the physical pain I am craving.


It is the mental feeling of being put in my place.


On my knees.


His property, to play with as He pleases.


At at the end of the play.. I can relish the feeling of being 'spent' and know it pleases Him to see me like that.

Another communication fuckup..

I am guilty of the crime of keeping things to myself.

Is it wrong that I am hoping for a little home brand incarceration??
Ropes, handcuffs...maybe a blindfold or something??

I have failed in the one thing I actually thought I had managed to get my head around.

Communication.

I posted a couple of weeks ago that Sir and I needed some more communication.
That was when I was imagining Him lying serenely in bed, recuperating from surgery.
A car accident prior, a collapsed lung, my frantic travelling made any sort of serious communication about D/s a secondary issue for me. And I am guessing it was the last thing Sir was thinking about as well.

We have just had a weekend alone for the first time in over a month.
Bliss....pure bliss.
No cooking.
No cleaning.
A day out on the new motorcycle.
And some serious vegging out on the couch.

It wasn't until Sir had gone home and left me all sulky on the couch that I realised I had missed my best opportunity for that serious discussion.

He called me on it last night.
It started from a discussion about the stress levels we have dealt with lately.
I remarked to Sir that he should probably be grateful I wasn't there with Him, and the reason for that is I was skirting that fine line between danger and absolute brattiness.
I called Sir a fucking asshole once, and was punished with a crop.
Last night I was in the same mood.

After our chat, Sir tasked me with a writing assignment.
To explain to Him more about the mental side of my submission.

It took me most of the day to come up with something I was happy with.
I am still not convinced I explained the side of it that Sir wanted to know, but I did try.

I am guessing my writing is the tip of the iceberg on this issue.
And that we will be discussing it further when we get time in person.

But I did learn something today...that even when I do not realise it, that I hide things, keep things to myself. That a small part of me is still scared about giving Him the things I have never given anyone before.....all of my emotions, access to the inner me, the whole part of me I had never given anyone access to before.

I need to learn to communicate better.

To love Him more than I knew...

There has to be nothing harder for a Dom than to be not at full strength at all times.

It is life and common sense to know that not everyone can be on the ball at all times, that there are times when things get on top of us, where we need others strength, but for a Dom, this must be especially hard to fathom at times.

This week has been a busy one for Sir and I.

An accident on Friday wrote off His car thanks to an inattentive truck driver and some particularly nasty wet weather.
The weekend was busy with Sir at my place in a borrowed car, 5 visitors and my kids, so 9 people in total in a not so big 3 bedroom house, but the kids thought sleeping in the living room was great fun.

Sunday night had me travelling the 2 hours back to Sir's house, as I wanted to be able to take Him to the hospital at 7am on the Monday for removal of the gallbladder.

For me, this meant organising time off work, care of my kids, making sure I was prepared for the return home, making sure Sir's house was ready for His return home, packing and a whole lot more stress than I admitted to at the time.

Monday saw us at the hospital, I knew Sir was booked in for an overnight stay, but what I wasn't prepared for was for Him to come out of surgery looking as He did. Oxygen through a mask, and that look of someone who has been under anaesthetic was one thing, but He looked much worse than I had expected. This is where I admit to crying in the carpark where He couldn't see me.
And probably not so much because I was upset at how He looked, but the self realisation of How much He means, to me hit me harder than I expected.
I stayed 13 hours, sewing, reading, and watching over Him as best I could, all the while feeling as useless as tits on a bull.
Tuesday was emotionally horrid for me.
I walked into that room 12 hours after I had left, and found Him looking worse than the night before.
Morphine given to Him for the pain had left Him unable to take a deep breath, which in turn caused a lung to collapse during the night. The bile in His gallbladder had leaked into abdomen during surgery, which had caused a fever, and those two combined left Him looking like death warmed up if you will pardon the expression.

By days end He had improved 200%, but another overnight stay was happening.
I had planned my time under the assumption that I would be leaving Him to head back home safely tucked up in His own bed, not at the hospital for yet another night.

The drive home was one full of contemplation, thoughts and music to keep me awake.

After my marriage broke up, I swore that I would never do it again, that I had no need for someone in my life that mattered so much. I was determined that I would give my kids 5 years of my undivided attention, that I would find someone who was ok with just the occasional weekend together, maybe dinner occasionally during the week. Yes, I wanted the kink, the raging hot sex, the feeling of submission, but never did I think that I would fall in love.
These reasons are probably why I submitted to my ex-Dom, he made it clear to me that happy ever after was not on the cards, and nor was it something I wanted. What we had together worked for the time we were together.

When I met Sir, I also did the whole "never getting married, just want some fun every second weekend, my kids come first, don't want to fall in love stuff" with Him.
That lasted all of about 2 weeks before I fell in love.
My kids always come first, as do His, but kids are different. They are reliant on us for almost everything, we are expected to be there no matter what, and both Sir and I are determined that it will be that way for our kids.
But together, that is different.
He is my world, my everything and He owns me heart, body and soul.

Seeing Him not at full strength was not a shock, it was something I expected to happen. Who can have major surgery and be back to normal in an instant?? No mere mortal, that is for sure.
But to see Him looking so ill, irrational thoughts went through my head. Thoughts like I haven't had the forever you promised, that we have too many things left to do together, and while I knew He was in no immediate danger of actually kicking the bucket, it showed me how much He really does mean to me.
It also showed me that I don't always need Him to be the strong one, that I am quite capable of being the strong one when it needs to be like that, but that me stepping up and showing my strength doesn't make me any less submissive, it makes me a normal woman who loves and protects my man, whether He be a Dom or just a nilla man.

But it makes me love Him more to know that He can be honest enough with me to let Him see Him not at full strength, not at His strongest and not the Dom I know most of the time.
Having said that.... it won't be long before He is back at His wicked, evil best, torturing me with all sorts of weird and wonderful things.

I love you Sir, with all I have.

Communication is on the menu...

Today was the first time I have ever reached out to my ex-Dom since we parted last year.

I felt a little like something was off centre, I knew it was something I couldn't explain to Sir. I didn't know myself what my issue was, so explaining it to Sir was nigh on impossible. So I reached out to my ex-Dom.
He knew/knows me well, he reads me well, and I have no hesitation in thinking that he would have known something was up just be the simple fact that I searched him out rather than the other way around.

After the Fucktoy post, he popped up on my YIM for a chat. We have spoken twice since then, so we are not chatting often, not even once a week, but we are in touch.
And even though I thought it would never happen, its nice. Its nice and it is odd in it's own way. I don't know what to call him, his name doesn't feel right, but neither does the word Master any more, so it is usually just Hi and goodbye, no names. Its telling to me that I get the same in return, no names, no kitty, none of my real name, just Hi or a Hey you :)

Having me pop up on his computer screen would have told him something was going on. I did wish for a mini spy cam to see if he rolled his eyes at my use of the term 'spaz out' but I knew he would understand the head space I was in.

What the chat determined was.... I was craving submission.

I am always Sir's submissive... ALWAYS, but.... midweek I am just me, I have no tasks, no rules, yes, we have regular contact with each other, daily, and multiple times, text message, ph calls, instant chat, emails...there is never a day that goes by that we don't have contact. But there are no expectations midweek.
It is not something I have consciously thought about up until now, but I miss tasks.
insert eye roll here
I am not sure I can effectively explain what tasks mean to me, but I will give it a go.

They are small things I did, at the request of my ex- Dom, which were designed to please him and from that, I got a feeling of serving, a connection of the submission, doing something that is not my choice, at a time determined by someone else...it is a way I felt connected, even over a long distance.

Here is where I admit that I used to resent tasks, they always seemed to be at a time that was inconvenient, kids home, visitors coming over, something always made me feel like I wanted to put it off til the last minute I could... but in the end, I always felt a sense of accomplishment when I had completed them. I didn't always get a reaction, sometimes I wondered if they were even received, but I could always take a deep breath, feel like I had accomplished something that would please him after they were done.

Some were photographic, some written, some physical, they varied. I don't presume to know whether there is some sort of Domly type master list of submissive tasks, randomly selected when needed, or whether they are individual to the submissive, chosen to enhance the submission, bridge the distance and maintain the contact and connection. And really, it makes little difference either way, the fact is, they do bridge the gap, maintain the connection and more importantly, they open lines of communication that are sometimes not breached any other way. Written tasks often are of a topic chosen by the Dominant, designed to make the submissive think about something that they wouldn't normally, perhaps research a new scene, a new toy, or investigate something not yet discussed.

This used to get one of two reactions in me. The first possible reaction was that I found something that I was eager to try, the second that I found something that put the fear of God in me...something I knew would push a limit, break through a boundary that was as yet, not breached. Both reactions had me concentrating on submission, thinking about how to communicate my reactions and maintaining a connection when time apart is hard.

But the point of the whole post is I am craving some submission, and I know my Sir well enough to know that if He were here, He would see the look on my face, His instincts would tell Him I needed something, be it a hand in my hair, a whispered word in my ear....just Something!!

This week coming, there will be very little play for us, winter here seems more hectic than summer, but I have the feeling this week we may get back to more of the talk we had when we first began, wants, dislikes, expectations and wants v's needs.

I have talked to Sir briefly about my craving, explained as best I could, but there is a need for a better explanation on my behalf.. I know I didn't effectively convey the feelings and the mental space I was in at the time.

Yet again, it highlights to me that communication is one of the single most important things in a BDSM relationship.

More communication coming right up......

Love Bites and love grows...

After reading _sub_girl's blog post about being a guest on the Love Bite I sat and listened, and loved it.
Besides the fact it was nice to hear her voice, it is not often I actually get to hear her, but she is the queen of pinpointing unmet needs. Both her own and others.
There have been a few times where she has gently and sometimes not so gently pointed facts out to me I was unwilling to admit, showing me where I had needs that were not met, needs that would never be met.

Combine that podcast with having a weekends at Sir's which began with me not being allowed to touch or kiss Him, which I was told to strip naked, and ate dinner that way while Sir was fully clothed and before long I was self evaluating what my needs were as compared to wants.

I want His control
I want to be His fucktoy
I NEED to be able to touch Him.

If I have to live without kink, I can
If I have to live without control, I can
If I had to live without Him, that I cannot do.
I would survive, but it would be a miserable existence.


Since being there, I have started to listen to more of the podcasts from the Love Bite.
Being kinky, there is limited places I can listen to it in peace, I have taken to listening to it in bed, or after kids have gone to sleep at night. I even managed a little listening at work today while I had the office to myself. Some parts of it make me think about my submission, about whether I can do things a little differently than I have before, make it better in some way.
It may be infinitesimal to others, but if it makes a difference in a good way in our life, I don't care how small it is.
Some of the podcasts may not be my kink, but I will still listen, who knows, I may learn something unexpected, some of the bizarre things in life happen when you least expect it from all sorts of weird and wonderful places.
So I downloaded the whole lot, or the episodes I could so far at least, and have subscribed to the new ones that are sure to come. I found them here

I am not saying they are a teaching tool, I am just saying that I will be listening with interest, and if I hear something that relates to me, that points out to me a time and place where I can improve my submission to Sir, then I will be giving it a try.

My submission has changed over the past few months, not in a huge way, possibly not even in a way anyone else can see, but I can feel the changes. It comes more naturally, easier, and I honestly think it is as simple as knowing I have met my life partner, and that I can knowingly be submissive with Him and know I am safe no matter what.
I am not a bow and scrape type of gal, and Sir would be the first to tell you I have no issue with sharing my feelings, good or bad. But everything I do, I can do knowing that no matter what my opinion is, He will take my thoughts and feelings into consideration and make the decision that is best at the time.
The trust comes easily, even when He gets vicious and brutal and takes what He wants from me in a way that leaves me feeling well used. I know no matter how rough He gets, it would stop in an instant if He ever hurt me past what I can take, I know no matter how used I feel, I am always loved.

And the proof is in the pudding so to speak... Sunday morning Sir took what He wanted. 4 kids in the house, before coffee (even my kids don't speak to me until after coffee) and He just opened my legs, pulled my panties to the side and He fucked me. Before long we were off the bed and I was on my hands and knees on the floor, taken roughly from behind. There was nothing gentle about it, His fist was in my hair and He fucked me how He wanted. When He had enough, I was pulled by the hair to face Him and He came in my mouth. The whole time, Sir had this vicious look on His face, the one which warns me if I say something smart, that I will pay in a way that will ensure I learn a lesson from it. This was not about my pleasure, I was spanked twice...just enough to inflict pain and make that satisfying cracking sound, but not enough that I began to enjoy it, it was Him, His pleasure, taking what He wanted....and I loved every second of it.


As much as I have seen my submission change, I have seen His domination over me grow, seen Him become more comfortable in His role as the Alpha Man in our home.
This 24/7 relationship which involves D/s is a first for both of us, we are both feeling our way, neither of us have much to compare it to, but never have I felt so happy and content.

I have found my soul mate, and I am a lucky girl in that He is a kinky guy who loves to take control over me, but at the same time, let me be me, a strong submissive with a dominant personality who is quite capable of looking after herself.

His Fucktoy...

Driving home from Sir's last weekend, I passed the coffee shop where I had coffee for the first time with my ex-Dom. We had met elsewhere initially, but the rain had meant that venue wasnt going to work, so we drove to a coffee shop close by.
At the exact moment I realised where I was, and that I was almost stopped in traffic right outside the door, a song came on the radio.
It is one I have listened to many times, and love the words too, it speaks to me in a way not a lot of songs do, hits a spot inside if you will call it that.
This song has parts that could be word for word how I feel, some parts not so much, but I didn't write the bloody thing, so that's to be expected.
I am not going to pick out the parts that I identify with, nor the parts that don't mean as much, I will leave that for another day perhaps, and possibly whoever reads this has someone in their past that this song could have been written about, or knows someone like it.
Sir and I discussed a few different things today, stuff about the past, about the future, about the present, and I mentioned to Him that I had heard this song at the exact moment I went past the coffee shop where I had had that first meeting, I played Him the song while He held me in His arms, standing in the lounge.
It is almost like a closure for me that I hadn't had until now.
I never got a last chance at goodbye, once we came back from our trip away, I found out I was sick, and before I knew it goodbye was said....online only of course.
I guess in my mind I always thought there may have been a coffee, a hug and one last goodbye and wishing each other well, but there seems to have been too many things said to make that viable.

Probably more to the point, I feel like it is no longer needed either.
I have gotten rid of the things in the box tied with a bow.
I have sat and thought a lot about the past lately, I am not sure why it is now, life is quite busy for me, it is not like I sit here with time on my hands and nothing to do.

Within the first few months of me starting on my journey, I had spazzed out more than once, and looking back on it, I was fucked up.
Not fucked up bad, but definitely not my normal usual self.
I would cry a helluva lot more than normal. I didn't cope with things that I normally would have, and most importantly, I put up with things that I would have told anyone else to go fuck themselves over.

I am not saying I was treated badly.
I have no regrets.
I learnt a lot and those things I will forever be grateful for.
But I allowed myself to be treated in a way that I could no longer do.
It was never EVER without respect...this is in no way shape or form an attempt at disrespecting my ex-Dom, he made it crystal clear right from the very beginning, before we ever met how this would be.
I accepted his terms and conditions and I did so without coercion, without pressure and knowing the truth about how this would be.

Having said that, I think back to accusing him of making me feel like his fucktoy, that I was something he had sitting on his shelf, to be taken down and played with at his beck and call.
Sir has a pet name for me, something He takes great pleasure into whispering in my ear at different times in that oh so alpha tone of voice that makes you know exactly where your place is in His life....
I am His Fucktoy.
It is one of many words He calls me, it goes hand in hand with slut, whore, bitch and variations thereof.
But it is when He calls me Fucktoy that I melt inside.
It is one of those words that I used to hate, and now I love.
I am His Fucktoy, but the difference is, I don't ever feel like He places me on a shelf to be used when convenient. I am there to be used when and wherever he chooses, and the other times, I am content in His arms, knowing I am loved.


Now I sit here with a very sore arse, and a tender cunt, having today learnt the difference between being fisted and being fist fucked, and knowing that Sir was the first man to have ever cum up my arse.
Psychologically that was a feeling I never expected. Sir has given me many firsts, but knowing He came up my arse and was the first person to do that, make me smile in a way I never expected.
I ineffectively tried to explain it to Him at the time, but I am fairly sure it is something unexplainable, almost like giving Him a virginity of some kind.

Today was not the beginning of a journey, nor the end of another, but it was a day I will remember for a long time.

Untitled writing...

She walks through the door, pulling her case behind her, handbag slung over one shoulder and a weary look on her face.
She sees Him standing in the kitchen, the aroma of dinner cooking makes her stomach rumble in hunger, He walks towards her, beer in hand, a smile on His face. Dropping the handbag on the floor, she wraps her arms around Him, holding tight, relishing in the feel of His body against hers, her head rests on His chest, it is the feeling of being home.
 No amount of contact mid week makes up for the feeling of being in His arms, drawing on His strength, taking a deep breath, inhaling the essence that is Him.
He leads her to the kitchen, placing His beer on the counter, she is tired, but excited to be there, eager to have time with Him.

He wraps her in His arms again, kissing her, holding her tight, she relaxes into Him. It feels like home when He is close. A hand wraps around her ponytail, twisting it gently as He kisses her, playfully tugging it softly.
Without warning, her head is pulled back sharply, the gentle hand has disappeared. He is forceful, there are no illusions that if she resists, that the hand will pull harder, sharper, forcing her head back, exposing her neck, holding her firmly in place. His other hand grabs her under the chin, holding her still as His lips take what they want, His tongue pillaging in her mouth, teeth biting her lips. His mouth moves to her ear, whispering softly
'Take your things to the bedroom my little fucktoy, you know where they belong, you have 3 minutes to be back here minus your shoes and with your collar in your hand'

Her weariness has disappeared, not knowing what is coming next, knowing that if He were to put His hand inside her panties, she would be dripping wet already, she rushes to do as she is asked.
Slightly less than 3 minutes later, she re-appears as ordered, collar in hand, bare feet on the cool tiles.
He looks at the floor at His feet, she kneels instantly, hands together in front of her, offering Him the collar she holds. He ignores the collar, takes hold of her hair, again pulling her head back, forcing her to look up at Him.

She can smell the control, see it written on His face, feel it in the strength of His hands in her hair. He says nothing, just looks at her face, reading the tiredness, the excitement and the fear of not knowing what is coming next, He takes hold of the collar, all the while looking at her face, still saying nothing.

The hand disappears from her hair, her head dropping forward. He places the collar around her neck, buckling it tight. When He is sure it is fastened to His liking, a fistful of her hair makes her aware she is expected to stand. In one smooth movement, she stands and is spun around to face the nearest wall in seconds, with no time to brace her hands against the wall, her face is pressed to the plaster, His hips holding her in place. With one hand in her hair, and the other around her throat, His body pressing her tight against the wall, she feels her cunt drip in excitement.

'Tonight my little slut, you will do as I ask, when I ask, how I ask and all without complaint, do you understand me??'

'Yes Sir, I do' she says, as she feels her cunt clench, drip and throb.

'Go and sit down, dinner is ready' He says

She sits as she is told, this food will give her the necessary energy for what comes next, something she has a feeling she may need......

Go on then.... Make me..

The idea of consensual non-consent has always appealed to me.

I never want to be in the position of being sexually abused in any way, or afraid of being attacked, but the thought of saying No, and having someone you trust take it from you anyway, appeals to me.

I have always wondered about how exactly consensual non-consent would work.
I am a submissive.
I not only love and trust my Sir, but I don't say no, and not because I am not allowed, but because I don't choose to. How can I say no to something I want so much??
So am I supposed to say no even though I don't want to, rendering any non consent a whole load of bullshit??
Put up a weak resistance?? Fight back??? How exactly does this work??

If at this point you are thinking in your head that consensual non consent works better with a stranger, someone I don't know, someone I can really say no to...then I aint trying it. Not going there.

I am currently having a mini holiday with Sir, a full week together, sometimes with kids, sometimes not, but yesterday I had to go to work for the day.
6am alarm, 7am leave. Sir made me coffee before I left, packed another in a travel mug for me to take, He then spent the day doing everything except anything for Himself. Looking after kids, cooking, cleaning, washing, all while I was at work.
I arrived home 12 hours after I had left, tired, and with a headache.
At some point over dinner, a shower, then a nap on the couch, I decided that while I would never be able to effectively say NO, that after such a day, me saying no, may just get a reaction that I wouldn't normally on any other given day.

I honestly don't believe consensual non consent can work for me when He knows I am only playing, to me, it has to be believable. So.... last night I said No, amongst other things.
Words like 'maybe', 'if you think you can' and the whole time, said in that tone of voice that reeks of sarcasm and intent to piss Him off.
I didn't want to say No to Sir.
I wanted to be in His arms in bed.
I wanted to play.
I wanted to make love.
But I also knew that I am very rarely in a  mood like that, and that if I took advantage of the mood, that Sir would push harder than normal, hence we would both get to experience something different.

Sure, for those of you sitting there thinking I was topping from the bottom, you can think that, but consider the options....

I could have sat here on the couch, explained to Sir what I would like to try, then with permission, use a half hearted No, to which He would have known meant Yes because of our prior discussion, and what would have resulted would have been a wasted effort for both of us.

OR

I could and did, become a smart arse, challenging Him to take what He wanted, while I used as much resistance as I could manage, without really fighting back (I cannot possibly hurt Him) which resulted in me in tears over the pain in my arse, and a hair style Medusa would have been jealous of. Something about having half the hair yanked out of my head, being spanked until I literally couldn't take any more, and then having Sir take what He wanted turned me on.

Having said that, I don't think I am in a hurry to do it again.
And not because my butt is still sore, but because as much as I am a smart arse, being deliberately smart as compared to being smart and teasing in a playful manner, are two totally different things.
One I enjoy, the other not so much.

It is just not fun saying No to someone you want so much, but I am glad I did it, if only for one reason....

It proved to me how much I trust Him and how much that trust is well placed.

Licking my lips.....

As much as I love to feel His hands in my hair, or His teeth sinking into some part of my body, the thing I love the most is Cock worship, oral sex, blow job, sucking the sausage, whichever you prefer to call it.

There is something about feeling His hand knotted into the back of my hair, pushing my mouth onto His cock, ramming His hips upwards, forcing me to take as much as He can shove in there, and holding me still while He face fucks me.
Sometimes He holds my head just back far enough that I can't quite reach His cock with my tongue, He strokes it right there in front of my face, letting me watch, but knowing that what I really want is to get His cock in my mouth, to run my tongue all over it, sucking on it, playing with it, treating it as if it was my own personal lollipop to play with. Knowing He is holding me just out of reach has multiple, contradictory effects on my body, both out of my control.... it frustrates the shit out of me at the same time it turns me on to the point where I literally drip. I love to watch men masturbate, but not as much as I love His cock in my mouth.
To watch Sir stroking Himself turns me on beyond belief at the same time my mouth waters to get that cock down my throat as far as I can get it.

There is something very self satisfying about saying 'Thank you Sir' after He cums in my mouth.
And I lay there, the taste of Him in my mouth and I smile, cherishing the ache in my jaw, knowing I have pleased Him.

Pull my hair just one more time......

I have been reading things a little differently lately. As in, I get on Fetlife most days, and read threads about BDSM, the whole D/s dynamic and I always have, but lately it seems to be sinking in differently.

A thread this morning about hair pulling and what other subs thought of having hair pulled made me sit and think about the times I have had mine yanked.

It can be as simple as a handful, held tight, pulling at the scalp, just to remind me HE has control, or it can be a fistful while being fucked doggy from behind, getting things a bit rougher, it can be being led by the hair to be placed in a position that pleases Him, is is many different kinds of things, but each and every one of them turn me on.
There is something primal that appeals to me about having His hands in my hair, whether it hurts or not, there is always the reminder of His control.

Collars, Cuffs and Restraints.
Another subject that gets me going...
Sir surprised me with a Collar some weeks ago, it is something I sleep in every night He is not beside me. It is an unusual collar, and not one I had ever seen before. Black leather, with rings that join the leather sections, but it dips in the front, almost like a necklace. It is almost an inch thick, so not something that nilla people would find normal around my neck at all, but something about the difference of it appeals to me.
I love that it sits differently. the weight of it around my neck reminds me of who owns me, but it is not restrictive on my throat. And the more I wear it, the softer it is becoming, like a favourite pair of boots.
Cuffs are something we are still working on. I have skinny wrists, which mean that skinny cuffs often are loose and cut in on my wrists, and there comes a point where the pain in the wrists overtakes the pain I feel elsewhere, and my brain focuses on the wrists and not the sensations elsewhere in my body.

I have friends locally who are kinky, and I would pop over for a coffee and a catch up, only to find her dressed as He wished, this was without a doubt always with wrist and ankle cuffs. She wore them with ease, they were on so often they became part of her routine when at His house. I have no doubts, even without asking that she was never allowed to place them on, or remove them, that it would have been part of a ritual they had that when she arrived, He would place them on, even if no playing was on the cards.

I went out with a friend one night, and borrowed ankle and wrist cuffs to wear... they were heavy around me, but something that I soon got used to.. at the end of that night, a joke was had and chains were locked on to me, leaving me with wrists chained together and the same on the ankles... something that will not surprise those who actually know me, that joke resulted in me asking politely to have them removed and when they were not, I went to bed in another room with them still on. I was not giving that person the satisfaction of me asking twice. the next morning we found they had stuck to my skin during the night and had to be almost peeled off. My raised eyebrow may have told him that if he had done as I asked that this never would have happened and an apology was soon forthcoming.
My point is, Collars and Cuffs have the same reaction on me as the hair pulling does.

Things don't HAVE to hurt, they just have to be not my choice.

Things don't HAVE to be the direct opposite of what I want, they just have to be not my choice.

Things don't HAVE to be done during play, they just have to be at a time HE chooses.

Control doesn't HAVE to be around all the time, but it makes me damn horny when it is......

Not your average couple...

I sat down this morning, having the feeling in my head that I had something that I wanted to say, but when I opened the page to begin a blog post, the thoughts were gone.

Occasionally I get a nagging feeling like I want to blog something, but I don't know what it is I actually want to write about.
Like there are thoughts in there that are trying to get out, let me help make sense of something, or help me realise something. My blog is not a place for me to pass judgement, or to push my opinion on others, it is just my place to express myself in a way I normally wouldn't.

Chatting to Sir after the earlier blog post, He told me He loves to read what I have written, that I express myself differently in the blog than I do when we are together.
I remarked that is because I have the ability to write, delete, re-write until I am happy with the way it sounds, and although sometimes my fingers cannot keep up with the thoughts, I often delete and re-word what I have written so there is no misconceptions.
I can't do that in person, I have to explain myself differently.

I thought about that after we had chatted... I am different on here because - here I am completely submissive in a different way than I am when we are together.
I am ALWAYS His.
I am ALWAYS submissive to Him
But here it is different to when we are together.

I can get bossy in RL, I get all protective, I fuss more, I am just different.

I know I can get complacent in my submission occasionally, and I don't mean that I am not submissive, but meeting us as a couple, you may be forgiven for not being able to see that I am a sub. And of course, this doesn't apply to the vanilla world. Neither Sir or I force our kinks onto those who don't consent, so to vanilla people, we are just another couple in love.

But around other kinky people, I can be submissive, call Him Sir in front of others, and have Him yank my hair, bite me.... whatever it is He chooses to do, and it is all ok. And there are times where I say things not many other subs would, or do things they would never dream of, and it is ok with Him.

A lot of the time we have kids around, and I don't just hand over control of my kids, I still have to maintain normalcy when they are around, and Sir does also. In those times, we are just a normal couple

My point is... outside the bedroom, I am equal.
Yes, there are always times when he says something, does something, and reminds me of my place, but it is not 100% on show all the time.
This past weekend, I felt more control than I have before, and not that He didn't control me, but it surfaced differently. I can sit here and know without a doubt, that His dominance over me grows more and more, and that His confidence as a Dom, gets stronger every time we are together.

I know when I am told to do something, that it is like a switch has been flipped, it's show time!!
There is also a look He gets on His face, that's when I know something is coming my way...

I am not sure He knows the reaction those things have on me, He certainly knows that He turns me on, but something as simple as "I want.." or "Go and do..." and the tone of voice used, they make me literally quiver on the inside. I melt. And I am not sure he even notices that his voice changes when He says those things, that His accent gets stronger, the timbre changes, which in itself, turns me on.



We are not the conventional Dom-sub couple, we follow very few of the 'accepted D/s rules' but without a doubt, our strength as a couple is as strong if not stronger than anything I have seen with my own two eyes.

I wonder what my thoughts will be about the control this time next year?

oh Yeah, and I finally found the motivation to finish off the changes to the blog.
This is a complete fresh start for me, this is the journey I am hoping lasts forever.