#SinfulSunday – in search of bokeh

In search of bokeh

It became something of a quest. I wandered the streets of my small town, breasts exposed under my coat, in search of the circles of lights known as bokeh.

Eventually I paused, finding a spot where I could unzip my coat and take the photo with the street lights twinkling in the distance. Cars passing within feet of me as I clicked. Flushed with success I went home and toasted all the other intrepid Sinful Sunday posters who venture out to bring pictures to us all each week.

Don’t forget to click on the lips to see who else is being sinful this week

Sinful Sunday

KOTW – collars

I am His – this is one of the ways I know it


The sting of the wings

Imprinted on my shoulders by your belt.

Each stroke creates a sting, creates a gasp, creates an involuntary twist away, followed by a voluntary twist back.

Each stroke is accompanied by a wish that this will be the last stroke, followed swiftly by a desire for it not to be.

Your sulky cock, aroused by our sinuous tango, pushes in and pulls out, each thrust accompanied by sting, gasp, twist, twist.

Your hand in my hair arching my back, we ride out and across the sky, sting, gasp, twist, twist

Collared anew, pony hair and suede, I trot and gasp for you, for us.

We pull the year across, tracking autumn into winter, winter into spring, sting, gasp, twist, twist

Belted sting and you deep in me, we are one winged thing, one charged with remaking the year, remaking time, deep in me, flying for us.

eye November 2015

And now, we create our world anew.  Master and eye, older, wiser and more committed than ever before this tangible evidence of our connection arrived through the post.  Before He put it around my neck and I wrote the piece above.

Three years later and so much has changed apart from this. I wear my collar, precious, treasured and waiting until He places it around my neck again.  Then we will ride, trot and gasp at His will. 

Sometimes booted and clothed, fresh-faced, into the wind and chariot driven through the lanes. 

Sometimes naked as the fire I lie in front of  warms us, His eyes on mine as He asks, “are you ready?” and I reply “yes Master”

What’s in a name?

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose. By any other name would smell as sweet” (Act 2, scene 2) Romeo and Juliet

Juliet uses this phrase to argue that Romeo’s name is incidental to their love.  Whilst this might be true for them, their other relationship, that of children in the warring families of Capulet and Montague argues exactly the opposite – namely  that precisely because of his name Juliet should not and could not fall in love with Romeo and there are certainly those around who should argue that my M and I should not have fallen in love with each other.  I don’t share their view.

I am writing this post because I firmly believe in the importance of names and of loving as fully as I can where I can. I have always had a fascination with names and as a teenager kept a list of unusual ones I liked.  As a twice married woman I am also a fan of falling in love and of loving too.  This might seem counter intuitive but I feel that the pain of loss is a cost of love I am willing to pay.

Anyway, back to names; as a teenager I regularly scanned the end credits of  films and television programmes to gather more names for my list and my favourite type of books were those that had a name as part of the title.  I was always fully aware of the power of names.  As a sulky, passive aggressive young wife I refused to refer to my new father-in-law by his name.  To this day I cannot recall ever addressing him directly, I would always refer to him ‘your dad’ when speaking to my husband.  I suppose at the time it gave me some sense of needed power over my world.  As an aside my new husband had threatened to call the wedding off if I didn’t take his last name – as I had the same first name as his sister this meant that for a while we both shared both our first and last names which was odd to say the least.  I reverted back to my maiden name (what a delightful phrase that is) as soon as we separated and because of this none of my four children share my surname which seems strange now but it was the way things were then.

I have written about how He gave me my name when we first began our online D/s relationship on this blog.  It is common practice I believe, to give the emerging part of a new submissive a name that they can associate with these new relationships both the one with the dominant party and with themselves.  It also serves to provide a boundary between this part of their lives and the other parts that must be kept going if the submissive is to continue to engage there too.  The draw of online D/s is an undertow that can drag both parties down into a world of fantasy which is a vivid as any three degree world available.  The submissive mind is endlessly creative and when harnessed by a skilled and experienced dominant this can be as addictive as any drug.  I found that when I am referred to or introduced as eye I am freed from the constraints of my birth name.  Freed of the expectations of good behaviour, a certain kind of sexuality, and the responsibilities to consider anything other than His requirements of me.  The importance of this as a way to allow me to engage with the hidden parts of myself cannot be over estimated.  I discovered a way to connect to my sexuality that unleashed my creativity.  It was truly the missing link in my life and relationship with myself.

I can’t remember why I called Him Master now.  It was never suggested to me, He told me His name and said I should call Him what I liked.  I had a long standing dislike of honorifics but my experience of Him was so complete that Master became the one that felt right to me.  I know that this is also what others that came before me called Him too.  It is apt, it suits Him.  He is a Master. 

He is my Master

Over time our relationship developed and began to involve other people and public places.  We needed to decide what to call each other in public, what to introduce each other as to friends and family.  My full name had become a watchword for old unhelpful ways of thinking, a kind of shorthand for when I was not operating as my own best friend.  Learned behaviour from previous relationships that I was, with His help, overcoming in my own life and so didn’t feel appropriate to our nascent us.  I also felt the need to differentiate myself from other people in His life and didn’t want to call Him what others did. 

After some thought we settled on diminutive versions of our names, He is Ant and I am Wen, sometimes Wen Wen, and I love it.  It lacks the slightly querulous tone to the ‘y’ ending in my name and I am happy that it is also what His birth family called Him too.  I like that closeness, the intimacy of Ant as I speak it, slightly hesitant at first at what felt like the audacity of it and most lately with joy at the indication of how far we have come.  

As our future unfolds together I believe we will move between Ant and Wen and Master and eye with increasing fluidity and this gives an audible aspect to the sense of security I have around us.  From the outside I know that this might not always be obvious as there are some big changes still to come for both of us.  But our course is now set and it is full of rights and lefts to allow interesting diversions rather than a direct path to a predictable outcome. 

Ant and Wen are preparing for the trip of their lifetime together with Master and eye as welcome co-pilots.  There are plans and dates and concrete expressions of the changes we are both looking forward to and a commitment to include all the aspects of us we have found and enjoyed so far. I love the taste of His name on my tongue and the sound of mine in my ear. What started in the head and body has grown to include the heart.  

We have a good thing going on and it will be quite a ride.

So hold on to your hats ❤

 

#SinfulSunday – I am as

SinfulSunday - dark and light

At this time of year my bathroom becomes a place of warmth and healing. For many years when stressed, or not happy with my body it was a place I avoided. Relaxation simply wasn’t possible. My mind would work overtime as my body stilled…

What if bleach had been left in the bath after cleaning?

Why was my stomach always puckered and protruding rather than flat or smooth no matter how thin I was?

Underneath all of these racing thoughts were the real questions of course.

Was I safe?

Was I lovable?

I have learned to look to myself for the answers to these questions.

I am as safe as anyone else is in an impermanent world. I will do my best to support myself.

I am as lovable as anyone else is. I will do my best to love myself wholeheartedly.

Join me in enjoying all the other wonderful images this week via the lips below

Sinful Sunday

#SinfulSunday – double act

One of the great things about meeting fellow twits is that if you invite them to come to the toilets with you and take their tops off for a #SinfulSunday picture they not only don’t blink an eye but they also join in with gusto.

This week you get two for the price of one from me but don’t forget to click on the lips to see who else is being sinful this week

Sinful Sunday

#SinfulSunday – red ribbons and baby blue

In case I ever forgot where we started Fetlife provides a catalogue of images from our beginnings.

If there was any doubt that we are kinky fuckers this image surely dispels it.

Bound, plugged, the jeopardy of the lighted candle and being told to ‘stay still eye’ it is all there. His planning, my obedience, and the sheer joy of us connecting physically, emotionally and psychologically is writ large.

Five years later I am more His than ever I was, even more than here and that is surely saying something.

Don’t forget to click on the lips to see who else is being sinful this week

Photo credit @domwithadee

Sinful Sunday

Mind the gap

Mind the gap

“as soon as we kiss goodbye we are a second closer to next time..”

I have often remarked that the D in an *LDR is the hardest thing, and I still agree with that, but, sometimes, of equal difficulty, is the gap between meetings.

I have seen other relationships move from meeting, to happy ever after, to breakup and recriminations in the time that He and I have been together and the distance between our homes has never been less than two and a half hours. There have been many lonely evenings and weekends where I longed to be somewhere else and yet knew that this was, in so many ways, a disservice to myself and my journey, and yet I couldn’t help it. I longed to be with Him and yet I knew I had to build a life that I could live without Him too.

This dichotomy of need and desire pulled me through the last four years. Uprooted and adrift I had no home to speak off and until fairly recently no reliable income with which to build one. I knew that I did not want to be in need of rescue, but also did not want to deny my need or the depth of my feelings either. For a while I was unable to make a thoughtful choice. Unable to plan or to believe enough in a good future and my ability to build it, but I discovered I was also unable to give up. I would wake each morning and begin the painful climb back to whatever gains I had made the previous day. I was as unable to remain at the bottom of the hole I found myself in as others are unable to begin the climb out. I couldn’t find it in me to give up, but I did despair of ever feeling joy or desire again.

It was a grim time. Characterised by crying in work toilets, whilst on the phone to debt collectors, by drinking too much at times, eating too little at others.

My world felt to be all in darkness with an occasional glimpse of a moonscape that was uncovered long enough to light just how far I had to travel.

In this space the times when we could meet shone like a beacon to light my journey although each meeting was filled with the goodbye that would inevitably come too soon, I found though that I was able not to lose the connection to my own life whilst still experiencing all the feeling about our connection.

I was learning.

As a recovering co-dependent I needed to learn to feel my own feelings, not those of my loved one. To experience my own desire, not seek to only satiate His. To build my own life, not piggyback on anyone else’s, regardless of how much better it looked than my own. To His credit He knew this. He gave me space and a place to perch every morning and evening. Our phones connected us, our gap was made smaller by a series of zeros and ones, data packets carrying words, feelings, pictures and sounds. A life together, lived at a distance, but none the less connected for all that.

So now, another countdown, I have learned to love the morning greeting “Morning! xx 7” as it was today. And I have learned that when it comes to our goodbye kiss we are already closer to meeting again than we were the second before that one. I have learned that I can create a good life for myself. I can depend on myself to keep going through the hard times. I have within me the capacity to be my own best friend. I can trust myself to know love when I meet it and to love back with all my heart.

7 my love, the gap is closing again.

____________________________________________________________________________________________Notes:

*LDR – long distance relationship

An extraordinary ordinary day

I collected Him from my home town’s train station. Waiting for His familiar grin to enter my field of vision I squinted up the platform, and, as I turn, catch sight of Him almost managing to sneak up and pull my hair which is His preferred method of greeting me.  Naturally this is followed swiftly by a deep hug and an even deeper kiss as I breathe deeply into his shoulder.

The bright autumnal sun seemed to reflect our happiness at being together.  Earlier that day I had asked Him whether He wanted me in jeans or a skirt.  Checking in for His preference has become something I do when I know I want to feel His touch and it makes me feel secure and cared for.

Now I am a big girl, I can choose my own clothes and I do it successfully most days, but like the Prince song “If I were your girlfriend” which asks “would you let me me dress you?  I mean help you pick out your clothes before we go out?  Not ‘cos you’re helpless, but just sometimes those are the things that being in love’s about” says, it feels intimate and vulnerable with just an edge of jeopardy (I mean what if He chose my shortest skirt with no knickers and stocking tops visible?) it reinforces the central tenant of our relationship in which He is my Master and I am His eye.

We met online, I spent 6 months talking to Him before agreeing to meet.  I did the thing that many call cheating in order to pursue my own agenda with my own body.  I felt compelled to explore what depths were there, unexplored and neglected.  Once I had discovered that this was not going to be possible in my marriage.  I made a decision to put myself and my own desires first, possibly for the first time in my life.  Others faced with this choice decide not to go down that path and I respect and understand that.  Knowing that your choices will hurt others is devastating.  Knowing that you are unable to even bring them to the table for discussion in your primary relationship is similarly devastating.

Once you know that truth about your previous life decisions regarding partners and expectations, you need to work out if you are going to continue down that same path or if you will take the detour, off the main well-lit road and through the woods, possibly to meet the wolf who will devour you whole, possibly, hopefully to meet the wolf who will devour you whole.

There are always consequences for leaving the well trodden path, and I felt them in all parts of my life; relationships, career, home and finances.  For a long time it felt like punishment, but I knew that I had begun to heal when it began to feel like freedom.  From the start He told me, “this is not about fucking and it is not fucking about” Inadvertently, but with a surety that gave it a sense of fate revealed, we built a relationship in which we could both thrive that surprised us both at times with the depth of feeling and breadth of connection that we both experienced.

Today I am brought back to where we started.  We passed by the funeral directors as we left the station and I popped in to hand over donations I had collected yesterday.  As I came out again I saw Him standing, chatting with one of the directors that we had met with 2 weeks ago when he supported me during the initial meetings after my dad died.  It struck me that He was connecting in my world at the most meaningful level and my heart sang.

Carrying on through the busy streets we stopped off to have coffee and cake.  Whilst standing in the queue His fingers stroked my back, circling and pressing so that, without being consciously aware of it I entered a state of such deep peace and contentment, a suspended animation of calm in the eye of the busy cafe, that I came too with a start when we had to place our orders.  My mind was at peace as my body simply focused on His touch, His presence and my position to it.  I realised that this is where we started.  It is where we will always connect.

In this ordinary day, the extraordinary connection we created when we met continues to support and feed us both as it deepens and grows.  There is more to come.  We have plans, He loves to plan, and I love it when He plans.

#SinfulSunday – I am – reflective

#SinfulSunday prompt week October 2018

As always, I have sought to make an image that is meaningful to me as well as, hopefully, creative and erotic. My father’s death last week has meant that I am reflective rather than sinful but hopefully this fulfils both mine and the prompts’ requirements .

Don’t forget to click on the lips to see who else is being sinful this week

Sinful Sunday