A strong, independent woman


On twitter, people will often post or retweet a meme that says something they feel is particularly pertinent to them and say something along the lines of “I feel seen…” I must confess, that’s exactly how I felt when I read the current prompt on the ‘No True Way‘ site:

Submission appeals to responsible, hard working and independent women, because it takes them to a world free from those pressures.

In fact, that simple statement resonates so much that I almost feel I should print it out, frame it and hang it on a wall somewhere because, for me, there is so much truth in it.

In the “real world”, I am a mental health counsellor.  The people I deal with are often at the lowest point in their lives when I first meet them. The stories they tell are always raw and deeply personal and, all to frequently, border on the horrific. To say it is stressful is an understatement. In these current times, it has been even more so than usual.

But who cares for the carer? Who heals the healer? For me, my submission to Master C often falls into this space.

Through my submission I am able to free myself from the strains, stresses and anguishes that I have to contend with daily. I surrender control to Master C. I let Him choose what is appropriate, what I should and shouldn’t do, I free myself from the need to make decisions, to choose one path over another. His care, His direction, His support and, yes, sometimes His discipline help me remain balanced.

Master C knows when I need soothing words and to be held firmly yet tenderly in His arms. He also knows when what I need is to be firmly restrained and soundly thrashed. He balances my needs for passion, pleasure and pain, and wields them in ways that keep me centred. Master C has developed an instinct for knowing when I need to have my shoulders rubbed, or my neck grabbed, when I need His hands massaging my back, or the stinging bite of His belt on my arse. When we fuck, sometimes I want Him to kiss me and stroke my hair from my face, at other times I want to feel His hands tighten around my throat. Sometimes I need to be an active participant and sometimes I need to be bound and helpless, allowing myself to be subjected to whatever treatment Master C decides is appropriate.

Sometimes, what I really need, is for Master C to fuck and thrash my cares away. My submission to Him gives me this.

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Say “please”


I must confess, the current prompt on the ‘No True Way‘ site made me chuckle:

A Dom doesn’t need to ever use the word
PLEASE

I suspect, like many couples, whether their relationship be D/s or vanilla (or anywhere in between), use of “please” in everyday discourse is taken as implied. I don’t ask Master C if He would please pop out to the shop for milk/eggs, etc. or if He would please pick up such and such when He is in town. The same is also true in reverse; Master C won’t ask me to please take a letter to the post office, or please pick up a bottle of wine on my way home. In these instances, the “please” is understood without ever being spoken. About the only time, outside of a sex/kink context, you will ever here either of us, and by which I mean Master C, use the word please, is when it’s done in exasperation, e.g. “For fuck sake, Mo, would you please stop leaving things on the stairs for me to trip over, are you trying to kill me?” or “please can you not leave piles of newspaper absolutely everywhere?” You may, quite correctly, assume from this that I can be quite an untidy person and it does, on occasion, drive Master C to despair and sometimes, if I’m really lucky, to drive Him to put me over His knee; but I digress…

When it comes to sex/kink, however, it is usually down to me to say “please”. Master C may instruct me to bend over, or  get undressed, or suck His cock; He may tell me that He intends to thrash me, or fuck my arse. His wants are almost always expressed as commands or instructions. My needs and wants are, however, almost always expressed as a form of question, e.g. “please may I suck Sir’s cock?” or “please can Sir fuck me?”

In this sense, it is I, as the submissive that “has” to say “please”; Master C merely needs to make His particular need/want known to me and that is sufficient. In this context, there is no need for Him to ask, He simply tells me how He intends me to be used or what He requires me to do.

There is an exception to this, however, that I find particularly hot. Sometimes Master C will phrase His instructions in the form of a question, e.g. “Will you please assume the position so I can thrash you?”, or “Please brace yourself against the worktop so I can fuck you hard from behind,” or “Please behave yourself appropriately if you want to be allowed to come tonight.” There is something about the way that when Master C phrases His instructions/demands in this way that makes me powerless to resist; the use of “please” in this context, rather than making them weak, makes them more formal and enforces the need for compliance on my part.

So, from my perspective, there is never any need for Master C to say please. Within the context of our dynamic, He always has the freedom to take whatever pleasure He wants from me and to use me in whatever way He sees fit. Having said that, judicious use of “please” adds an extra something, an air of gentlemanly formality that makes me want to obey Him and please Him, even more than I already always do.

Used sparingly, “please” is a very powerful weapon in Master C’s arsenal.

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Focus


The current teaser on the ‘No True Way‘ site is:

Stop “trying” to be a good sub… because that’s focusing on “you”…
Focus on Him…
His needs, His wants, His desires…
And everything will fall into place

I must admit, that I have conflicting feelings on this subject.

On the one hand, I agree that part of submission, for me at least, is focussing on Master C and his needs, wants and desires. With this, there is an expectation that I will strive to be and do the best that I can in whatever I do, whether that involves a task He has set me, accepting His discipline or sucking His cock. I’ve alluded to this many times, but a major part of my submission to Master C is that He provides me with the instruction and guidance to be a better me. My submission to Master C isn’t just about serving Him and attending to His needs, it is about my own personal growth. When Master C encourages me, He is building me up, letting me know that I have done well. When Master C disciplines me, He is letting me know that I have, in some way, performed beneath myself and that He expects me to learn from this and do better.

The upshot is, that not only am I trying to be a good submissive, I am striving to be the best submissive I can be. And the reason I do this is because that is what Master C expects of me and, in doing so, I am addressing a need and desire in Him to help me.

The flip side of this is that my submission to Master C is centred around Him. In this sense, being a “good” submissive is all about focussing on His needs, wants and desires. It’s about providing Him with support, comfort and companionship. It’s about providing Him with forms of intimacy: the physical, emotional, intellectual, creative, experiential and, of course sexual. It’s about being someone for Him to love, but also someone to use and fuck; providing Him with outlets for that duality that resides in all of us, the tender, caring, unselfish love and the primal, primitive animal. It’s about giving Him reasons to discipline me and accepting such punishments in a way that He knows He is providing me with opportunities to grow. A lot of it is about sucking His cock.

For me, the primary focus of being a “good” submissive will always be about Master C, however that always reflects back on me. The ego cannot be switched off. I want to “serve” Master C and the ultimate reward for my “service” is for Him to call me His “good girl”.

In a way, for me at least, D/s is a kind of symbiotic relationship; I crave Master C’s  recognition of my “service” and that will always mean that I strive even harder to please Him and make Him proud of me. I need to attend to His needs, I want to be the outlet for His wants, I desire to provide for His desires. I am not directly focussing on me, but my sense of self-worth is inextricably bound up in my submission to Master C. That is a bond that cannot be severed and, even if it could, I wouldn’t want to.

Ultimately, both Master C and I expect me to not only be a good submissive, but to be the best version of myself that, with his guidance, support and direction, I can be.

Cadged, benched and the sweet release of subspace


I’ve mentioned the cage before; about how it can be a place of punishment, and how it can be a place of retreat where I communicate my need of support. Last night, for reasons I won’t bore you with, it was most definitely the latter.

The process is simple: I finished work, logged off from my PC, undressed, closed myself into the cage, curled up and waited for Master C to discover me there.

I don’t know how long I was confined; time within the cage has its own special duration, it’s a kind of limbo where time has no meaning until I’m released.

“Is my little one feeling delicate?” Master C enquired softly on finding me confined.

I nodded. “Yes Sir,” I replied meekly, eyes downcast.

He left momentarily before returning; my collar and lead in one hand and a pair of cuffs on the other. “I think I know exactly what might help,” He said as He opened the cage and helped me out.

“Turn around!” a gentle command. I did as Master C bid me. The cuffs fastened around my wrists behind my back. The collar went around my neck and he fastened it tight. Attaching the lead. He turned me around, kissed me tenderly on the lips. “You know where to go,” He said.

I did. I know how this goes, but I still get a thrill of anticipation. “Yes Sir!” I replied.

“Well, lead the way then,” He said, giving my arse a playful swat.

I walked slowly thought to our playroom. In the middle of the room stood the bench. I glanced a coy look back of my shoulder. He nodded.

I walked up to the bench then bent over, my legs spread. Master C fastened the leather restraints around my ankles and then the side restraints went over my arms and fastened between my shoulder blades, holding me tightly in place. and then, I waited.

I waited while he pondered what implement to use. I flinched each time I heard a swoosh of air, only for flogger, or His belt, or the cane to land on the desk. I didn’t care which He used on me; any of them would hurt, any of them would begin my journey. I waited.

I waited, and the anticipation grew. I waited as he walked around me, scrutinising me, flexing the cane, or snapping the folds of his belt together in front of my face. I waited.

Again, that state of limbo, the passage of time meaningless. I waited.

SMACK! his belt struck across my arse. I cried out, as the stinging heat spread across my buttocks. SMACK! harder this time, or so it seemed. SMACK! harder still. His belt crisscrossed my buttocks; the intensity of each kiss adding to the fire of those that preceded it.

Hot tears fell from my eyes. Cries of pain were torn from my throat. His belt was merciless, His belt was harsh, His belt was unrelenting, His belt was just what I needed.

I didn’t count the lashes. This wasn’t a punishment where I needed to keep track, this was a centring, a rebalancing. My tears, my cries and my reddening skin were all that Master C needed to determine when I had reached the next stage.

Mt restraints were briefly undone. Master C repositioned me on my back, my head tilted back over the edge of the bench. The restraints were refastened, tighter; the one around my chest squashing my boobs and constricting my breathing. Slowly, Master C buckled his belt around my neck between my chin and my collar.

Tears still stung in my eyes, but I could see his lovely thick cock was hard. He slapped my face. “Open your mouth, slut! I’m going to fuck your throat.”

The words were what I needed to hear, and His cock was what I wanted to have. This wasn’t a blow-job, this wasn’t me worshiping His cock, lavishing attention on it; this was Master C fucking my throat, treating my mouth like just another hole.

He fucked me hard, rough, without mercy. I chocked and spluttered as He drove His cock down my neck; gasping for breath as He tightened His belt around neck. In… Out… In… Out… Again and again, over and over. The pressure around my neck making it almost impossible to breath around his cock.

Occasionally he would pull out fully, allowing me a few gasping breaths down my tortured throat before beginning again.

I was losing myself. I was become nothing more than something for Him to use.

Time stopped. The pain in my buttocks seemed to melt away, my jaw no longer ached. Tears still streamed from my eyes, but I barely noticed. This was it. This was that transcendent moment where nothing mattered, I just let myself go and get carried along on the current.

He came. Not down my throat, but across my boobs. I barely felt it, the fire burning in my veins was all consuming.

And then… And then… and then His tongue on my clit, His hands rubbing His cim into my boobs as He feasted on me.

My back tried to arch as I came for the first time. The restraints holding me firmly in place seemed to intensify the power of my climax. I cried a long, silent scream of release, my raw throat unable to produce sound. His fingers inside my cunt, His tongue on my clit, the pain, the power of my release. I was lost, powerless to respond. My consciousness seemed to float outside my body; I was a disembodied observer, watching on with fascination as Master C’s tongue and fingers relentlessly pushed my body beyond any last remaining iota of endurance.

Again, that timeless limbo, accompanied this time by a detachment from reality. How long had He kept me there? I’ve no idea.

The restraints were gone, soothing balm applied to my buttocks numbed the sensation of the soft sheets beneath me, the soft pillow beneath my head as Master C stroked my hair from my face, kissed me tenderly on the lips and slid into me.

He took me, slowly, languidly, but thoroughly. Never losing control, never allowing Himself to surrender to His inner primal animal self. This fuck was for me, to restore me, to bring me back to myself. I found my body responding to His, increasingly moving in harmony. I found the strength to raise my arms, to lift my hands to his buttocks, to slowly squeeze my fingers into his taut, firm flesh to let Him know that He didn’t need to be quite so considerate. I managed a very hoarse whisper. “Fuck me Sir! Your little slut needs to be fucked.”

He smiled down at me and thrust harder. I smiled back then closed my eyes, savouring His firmness inside me, His body on mine. Firm, yet gentle, strong, yet sensual, considerate, but always Dominant, He took me, He fucked me, He rebuilt me and made me whole again.

I came, feeling sore but secure beneath Him. And then, at last Master C came inside me and my worries and cares were banished again.

We had another slow, leisurely fuck this morning and, sore arse and slightly raw throat not withstanding, I’m feeling much more positive today.

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