I don’t want to write this post

Cufflinks, plaits and tie

There was a time when every encounter brought words gushing out of me. I had no trouble creating imaginative connections, new neural pathways were being forged, synapses were sparked, emotions were unlocked and I flowed, like a river towards the sea, always towards Him

He was my ocean and I bathed in Him.

I wrote for Him.

He was my Master and when I struggled to start a piece I would ask Him for words. His words, His specific way of seeing the world opened up so much to me and I was made anew by His presence and touch. He made me gasp and tremble and cry with pain. He made me cry out with ecstasy and sleep with an abandon I hadn’t experienced since I was a child. He made me safe in what had been, until then, an unsafe world

This period, when I look back at it, is characterised by the flood of creativity, and the bravery to pursue it, it unleashed in me. I wrote for those magic words “Proud of you”, I was encouraged by “Make me proud”. I strove, overcoming procrastination, hesitation, laziness and lack of confidence and I prevailed. I was prolific. Writing poetry, haiku, blogposts and twitter threads, creating images that sparkled with allure and the attraction I felt to myself as His eye.

I gained an audience. I made Him proud.

All things have a season, ebbs and flows are part of life of course but I, I have been in such an ebb that I feel like a beached fish at low tide. Flapping and gasping and waiting for the flow to creep towards me again.

What happened?

Life happened.

Real life.

Domestic violence, relationship breakdown, divorce, homelessness, poverty, old age and illness. There was little space for creativity there, this was sheer survival. And in that place our relationship began to change. There was also little time or opportunity for physical intimacy. We had one year when we met only twice in the whole twelve months but we were in contact every day, morning and evening at the very least.

The nature of my messages changed from telling Him I was coming for Him to leaning on Him for the support I needed to get through the day and then to help me climb out of the well of depression and CPTSD I found myself in.

I cried about my losses to Him, my family, my home, my business, my sense of myself as a good person. Being sexy was pretty far down the list. Being submissive, being His submissive though, was a thread that ran through this time and it was what I held on too. When He told me to rest my head on His shoulder every evening I did because in that place I could sleep. When He asked me to breathe us in I did, like it was my very own breath.

Now we find ourselves with space and some opportunity but things have changed for Him physically in that time and, I am crying as I write this, we are not able to fuck at the moment. I know He finds this as hard as I do. I have shied away from writing about this as I know how hard it is but it needs to be written about, I need to break the damn dam down and let through some clear water flow into our river.

I am grateful for the opportunity to serve Him still, through personal care, thoughtfulness, and by being His. I am that regardless, and not even in-spite of the restrictions illness and stress has brought to our D/s, that thread is strong enough to survive the physical distance we have between us and so Erectile Disfunction will not sever it.

A recent experience whilst we were #InAField reminded us that the connection still exists, it has just been obscured by the business of life. After an event where I was dressed in His shirt and tie, cuff-links, and tweed jacket He turned to undo my tie and the charge ran between us as strong as it ever was. I waited, eyes lowered, as His fingers twisted into the collar buttons and pushed behind the cool fabric to graze my skin. My breath shortened and I looked up at Him to see that grin, the one like a fox eating out of wirebrush, wily, knowing and Masterly. Full of desire and redolent with love.

My Master still and always.

I didn’t want to write this post. But I am glad I did.

I wrote it for us


Cufflinks for us

#SinfulSunday – au naturel

I prefer to be waxed, He prefers me to be waxed too, but life has been busy and time has been limited, hence this photo of me au naturel.

I have made the appointment for waxing next week 😁

Don’t forget to click on the lips below to see what other wonderful images have been posted this week!

Sinful Sunday

#SinfulSunday – afternoon delight

Afternoon delight

Those who follow me on Twitter know the hashtag #InAField is synonymous with us spending quality time together. This weekend has involved a morning competing in an event and then a first meeting for M with YD. By the time 4pm came it was time for a very welcome reconnection.

Don’t forget to click on the lips below to see what other wonderful images have been posted this week

Sinful Sunday




I shouldn’t have said yes to that boy who offered to take me for a drive.

I shouldn’t have said yes to the boy who invited me in when I told him what the first boy and I had done.

I shouldn’t have walked down the road, looking into the eyes of the young men that drove towards me.

I shouldn’t have said yes to the ones that stopped and asked me if I wanted a lift.

I shouldn’t have said yes when they asked ‘does someone here want to be saved?’

I shouldn’t have said yes when they invited me to walk to the front to be prayed with.

I shouldn’t have said yes when he asked me to marry him (twice)


I should have said no to leaving school at 16 with 2 O’Levels

I should have said no to asking him for money for my kids

I should have said no to answering any questions from him

I should have said no to him coming back into my bed after trashing my kitchen

I should have said no to the constant criticism of my girls

I should have said no to not going on holiday unless they were away with their dad

I should have said no to putting his needs before my own or my children’s


I should have asked the police to take him away when they offered.

I should have logged out of my gmail account before I went away for a weekend

I should have remembered that I am a FUCKING QUEEN

I should have made sure my husband knew it

I should have owned it, put on the mantle and worn the crown


I will never apologise for being me again

I will never be silenced by another’s neediness again

I will own my desires, celebrate my loves and live my life to the fill

I will take pleasure in small delights

And I will delight in the big ones

I will dare to love with abandon and with my whole heart

I will never abandon myself again



#SinfulSunday – soft focus sub

eye and M in a field

I am currently thinking about and documenting the areas of our shared life that has D/s running through it like an underground culvert.

To be able to take care of Him in such an apparently innocent way reaffirms our dynamic beautifully and fits with the monthly prompt of soft focus in that it might not be clear what is happening at first sight.

Don’t forget to click on the link below to see what other wonderful images have been posted this week

Sinful Sunday