Kinkless. Is that even a word?

I am having one of those "stuff on my mind" moments, where I know it will help me work out what is what, but I am unsure whether it is things I want the world to know. And more importantly, I am not sure everything I said would meet Sir's approval for public consumption.

Has he beaten me? No
Has he treated me badly? No
Am I still madly in love? Yes

OK...we are clear this is not a relationship going bad post?? Yes? Good

It's been a long time since I have had to live with someone new. Get to know their foibles and intricacies.

When I was married, there were so many habits of my ex husband that I hated.  I didn't become to hate them, I always did...right from the minute I noticed them. Sir has habits, small ones, possibly things He doesn't even notice, and so far, each and every one makes me smile.
I am not positive that it is working the same in reverse, but we'll get there.

The thing I have found the hardest is the meaning behind different things. We can SAY the same thing, and mean totally different things. It is when there is no clarification, one thinks one thing, and the other, another.

Which, for most people wouldn't be a big issue, but for me?? Blah.

Right now, I am struggling big time with my submission and my everyday life.
I cannot find a happy balance.

I have responsibilities, I am a mother, daughter and employee, all relationships which require me to be up front, strong and capable.
And I don't want to come home and turn into a mindless submissive who bows and scrapes, and neither would Sir want me to, but I am missing control. Not necessarily sexual control, but the kind that turns me into a whimpering submissive.

We have always done things differently to others. Our relationship is nothing like anything I have ever had before, and to be honest...the kink has dropped off a lot.
Which....I hadn't noticed that I had a problem with before now.

I can't tell you how long it has been since Sir tied me with rope.
Its been weeks since the flogger came out of the drawer.
I haven't seen a butt plug or any other kinky type of sex toy in months!

And yet.....

I have had a better connection with Sir sexually.... I have had multiple orgasms for the first time in my 30 odd years of life AND the orgasms have been easier and more frequent. All HUGE things in my life.
(For those just joining us... I had a bad orgasms-less marriage for 14 years, and Sir is the first guy to be able to give me orgasms.)

So while there has been little kink, it has been offset by better things elsewhere.

So why am I being an ungrateful bitch??
No clue


I am tired.. I know that.
Physically tired, emotionally exhausted and at times, a little homesick for the things I have left behind.


I don't know the answer.
I am not entirely sure I ever knew the question.

I am damn sure all I have managed to do is confuse myself rather than clear my head like I thought things would.

I need a holiday.

Weekend fucktoy....

What do you pack when you get a trip away as a birthday present?

I suppose that would depend on the destination.

For me?? It was a kink-friendly, Dungeon/ Bed and Breakfast long weekend away.

Required packing therefore included corsets, sex toys, whips, chains, rope, dildo's, vibrators, blindfolds, crops and many other things I am sure I didn't even get to see.

This venue is like no other that I know of.

Imagine if you will,  private bedroom, with adjoining fully-equipped dungeon. En-suite. And double french doors out to a private garden complete with a St Andrews cross, cage and an old fashioned barber's type chair.

Sound like heaven yet??

Now add a private maid, well versed in all things kink, at our beck and call 24 hours of the day while we were there.

Cooked breakfast every morning.

Access to a library filled to the brim with kinky books.

A large screen TV, and enough porn to last me 5 years.

Sound like something out of a kink fairy tale?? It was.

Want more??

One of our hosts was a professional photographer.

This is one of over 150 images I came home with. 34 of those Sir and I picked as our favourites.

I am a very lucky slut.

I had one of the best weekends of my life.

I was toyed with.
Treated like a fucktoy.
Beaten.
Teased.
Wore a chastity belt for the first time in my life.
Was chained naked in a dungeon.

All thanks to my Sir, who purchased the weekend away as a birthday present. Can't think of a present I have enjoyed more.

Thank you Sir. I love you, always.

small stuff...

Why do we so easily forget the small things?

Kissing with tongue like horny teenagers.
Explaining the "I love you" and not just letting the 3 words rattle off without thought.
Holding hands like young lovers.
Buying something small because seeing it made you think of the one you love.
Make out sessions in inappropriate places.
Making his favourite meal just to see him smile.


These, and countless other things are small things. And yet, we so easily forget them.
If we didn't dismiss them, would it make a difference?
Is forgetting the small stuff the beginning of something?

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.