Meditations on submission

The “No True Way” prompt this week is:

Spend some time every day meditating on your submission, even if you can only spend 15 minutes or so.

Now, this got me thinking.

I’m a great believer in meditation and it is something I will make the time to do every day. When I meditate, however, I’m not really thinking about anything at all. If anything, it’s quite the reverse and I am consciously emptying my mind of thought, just focussing on the moment, counting my breaths, or my heartbeats, or, if I’m outdoors, just listening to the sounds of nature around me. The whole point of meditation is to clear my mind, not to make it examine something.

So, the simple answer to the prompt is that I do not meditate on my submission. The simple fact is that my submission is so deeply ingrained into who I am that it is something I don’t really need to consider. I’ve written before about how, for me, my submission is both conscious and unconscious; how it is who I am, even when I am simply going about my everyday life. My submission is active when I am doing something at Master C’s behest, e.g. when I am undertaking a task, when I am being disciplined, when we are ducking; but it is also passive in that I am still submissive when I am at work, or when I’m shopping, or even when I’m asleep.

But sex, and my submission, can themselves be meditative. Nothing restores my equilibrium than a toe-curling, back-arching, strength-sapping orgasm or too. When I’m fucking, the only thing in my mind is how it feels and how it makes me feel. When I’m sucking cock, the only thing I’m concentrating on is the cock that I’m sucking and the pleasure I am giving. When Master C’s belt is lashing my skin, it is also cleansing my mind. For me, pain is a great restorative; it provides me with a reset.

And that brings me to the most meditative aspect of my submission, and that is when Master C takes me to that place known as subspace. It’s that sweet spot where pain and pleasure combine to take me out of myself. It is a timeless, transcendental state where my submission becomes a total surrender; I am no longer in my body, I become a personification of sensation.

Sometimes my need is overwhelming. I need to be broken down and rebuilt. The most powerful and deepest state of subspace is when Master C takes me to this particular level, when nothing is “off limits”, when He uses the freedom to do whatever He pleases to me to its fullest; banishing my demons and satisfying my darkest desires and needs.

So, while I don’t meditate on my submission, my submission often does transport me into what can only be described as a meditative state that restores and enriches my body, mind and soul.

Giving

The thought to consider on No True Way this week is:

“Submission is a gift“

I’ll be honest and admit that I’ve never actually thought of my submission in such a way before. To me, submission is more a kind of formal acknowledgement of my role (and responsibilities) within the relationship Master C and I share. In a way, now that I consider it, I can see where the idea comes from.

My submission is something that I freely offered to Master C, and something that He chose to accept. In choosing to submit to Him, I offer Him my services and my body to use as He deems appropriate.

I have mentioned before that my submission isn’t a one-way way thing; both of us have responsibilities towards each other. In that respect, Master C’s Domination is as much a gift to me as my submission is a gift to Him. Even beyond the D/s dynamic, or relationship is built on us giving freely of ourselves to each other individually and to “us” as a couple. Similarly, we both take what we need from our relationship as well. We both support and care for each other, we both attend to each other’s needs and desires. For us, D/s is a framework that underpins our relationship. Again, as I have discussed, even when we are not actively undertaking anything sex, kink, or D/s related, e.g. when we are both at work or, at the other extreme, when we are both asleep, I am still His submissive and Master C is still my Dominant.

In a way, the “gift” isn’t actually my submission, because my submissiveness is merely part of my nature and makes me who I am; the “gift” I give Master C is, essentially, me and everything I bring to our relationship. The same is equally true in the opposite direction; the greatest gift Master C gives me is, quite simply, Himself. We give ourselves to each other equally, freely and without reservation and, in doping so, we create something that is greater than our individual selves.

The first submission

It was a ceremony of sorts; a symbol of trust and acceptance. A sign of my submission to Him.

As He sat, I stood before him, eyes downcast. Slowly I undressed, the removal of each item an acceptance of His claim over me.

Finally I stood, naked, offering myself to Him. Presenting myself to His scrutiny. He told me to turn around. I complied, letting Him study me, showing him the prize that was His.

“Kneel!” Master C demanded, ” You know what to do.”

I did as I was bid. I unbuckled His belt, unbuttoned and unzipped His jeans, reached inside His boxers and released His cock from its confinement.

I took His cock in my mouth, paying homage to it with my lips and tongue. I was determined to show Master C how diligent I could be in the performance of my duties. My mouth’s purpose was to please Him and I yearned to do my best.

As my service to Him brought Him to the point of no return, He pushed me from him. “Have I displeased you?” I asked.

“No, not at all, little one,” Master C replied, “I intend to mark you.”

He stroked his cock, His hand almost a blur. “I am claiming you, Morag,” he groaned, “I am marking you as mine. From this moment on, you are MY slut.”

His cock errupted. His cum sprayed over my face, it trickled down my neck, dribbling on to my boobs.

“Give me Your belt,” I asked in a small voice, His cum drying on my skin. He gave me an enquiring look. “Pass me Your belt Sir, it’s important,” I urged.

Master C slipped His belt from its stays and passed it to me. I accepted it and adopted a position of supplication, on my knees, my head bowed, my hands raised with His belt draped over them.

“I submit to You,” I said, “I submit to You and accept Your domination. I offer You this belt to use for my instruction and correction. I will accept Your discipline as You see fit to dispense it.”

Master C took the belt from my hands. I turned around as He folded it and cracked it sharply together.

I waited. The anticipation built. I heard the belt swish through the air. With a resounding smack, His leather kissed my arse. In that moment, I truly became His submissive and He became my Master. With that first stinging caress of hard leather on my soft skin, He made me His…

 

Going down

I cannot lie, I am a massive fan of oral sex in all its forms. I love having my cunt eaten out and I also love feasting on the cunts of my female partners. I love having Master C roughly fuck my throat, treating my mouth as nothing more than another hole to be used by His cock. Finally, and it goes without saying and will come as no surprise to readers of this blog, I simply cannot get enough when it comes to sucking cock. With that in mind, I have some thoughts on this week’s No True Way teaser:

“I love going down on a woman/man, but I’d never go down on my sub”

Now, clearly, being the sub in my relationship, I don’t have a sub of my own, but as mentioned above, I do love going down and being gone down on.

First off, I don’t believe there is anything inherently dominant or submissive about the act of performing oral sex as and of itself; it is simply using our mouths to give our partners pleasure. As often as not, when I’m sucking a cock, even when it’s Master C’s cock, I’m not doing it as an act of submission, I am doing it because I love sucking cock and I want to suck cock.

That’s not to say that sucking cock can’t be a submissive gesture, because it can. That, however is more to do with the circumstances the scenario and the mood rather than the act itself. There are the rituals, the performances, the nuances that differentiate between a simple, honest to goodness, I want His cock in my mouth blow-job and an act of submission whereby I am sucking His cock by way of performing a “service” of as confirmation of Master C’s Domination.

There are also times, as I’ve written before, where there is a certain power reversal, in as much as I am the one in control. Master C is still Dominant, and I am still submissive, but I am using my moth to be in control of His pleasure; His orgasm will be because of what I do to Him rather than what He does to me.

The flip side of this is when Master C goes down on me. In the main, He does this for a number of reasons:

• He knows how much I enjoy it when He does it.
• He enjoys doing it.
• His pleasure is heightened by the knowledge of the pleasure He is causing me to experience.

There is, however, absolutely nothing submissive or any lessening of Master C’s Dominance when He goes down on me, however. In actual fact, when Master C is eating my cunt, He is still very much the Dominant partner. With His lips and tongue, Master C can choose to grant or deny me the release of orgasm. As a “tool” for edging me, it is probably without rival. The skill with which He can take me to the edge of the orgasmic abyss and then hold me there for what can seem like an eternity, that point where pleasure becomes torture, and so becomes an even greater pleasure, is almost indescribable. When Master C goes down on me, He has a control over my body and my responses that is greater and more finely tuned than is unmatched in anything else he does to me.

So, all of this is, I guess, a rather long-winded way of me saying, when I go down on Master C, it can be a submissive act, but, more often than not, it isn’t, it’s simply me enjoying having His cock between my lips, and when Master C goes down on me, it is most definitely not a submissive act in any way shape or form.

As with so many things in D/s, it’s not the act or the activity itself that is Dominant or submissive, it is the way the act is performed.

Master C’s belt

There is, I admit, something about leather; the smell, the texture, the feeling of it against my skin. When it comes to leather clothing, the only items I actually possess are my motorbike gear. I don’t actually have any leather fetish items, although Master C does like to fuck His “Biker Slut” sometimes, so my biking leathers have featured in my sex life from time to time. The only other item that I own, that kind of counts is a pair of almost knee length “fuck me” boots which I wear very rarely because I would almost certainly fall over if I wore them for any prolonged period.

No, when it comes to leather, sex and kink, there is only one thing that really “does it” for me and that is, of course, Master C’s belt.

I both fear, and love, Master C’s belt.

I fear it for the pain it will cause me; the delicious agony of my flaming red arse cheeks as Master C punishes me for my various transgressions. I always know when I’ve done something that deserves the belt; I know when to present myself, arse bare, bent over, waiting for its chastising kiss. There is no escaping it. There is no point trying to resist it. When the belt is due, the belt will come, and I will bear it and endure it like the chastened little slut that I am. Forced to count the lashes, desperate to hold back the sobbing tears; Master C will thrash me until my defiance is beaten, my transgression punished, my submission complete.

When Master C thrashes me, there are always those moments of dreadful anticipation before the first blow lands; the calm before the storm, the silence as Master C prepares Himself for what needs to be done. There are the shivers of anticipation that run along my spine, the involuntary clenching of the muscles in my buttocks as I await the first contact, and the inevitable moistening of my cunt as I wait, exposed and vulnerable, awaiting my fate.

The tension mounts as the eternal seconds tick by; my stoic silence is a pretence at defiance, a challenge that requires to be met and for which Master C should show me no mercy.

And then, that brief, short swooshing sound as the belt moves through the air, gathering momentum as it makes that short arc that ends with a stinging crack as it bites into the flesh of my bare arse.

From that moment on it is simply about endurance; accepting each stroke that rains down, feeling the burn intensify with each lash as synapses linking my pain and pleasure centres go into overdrive.

Yet, for all that I fear it for the pain that it will inflict, I also love it.

I love it when Master C uses His belt to bind my wrists together as He fucks me from behind. I love the way it digs into my skin, tightening as I struggle against its binds, its surface chafing my wrists; holding me in place as I endure the pounding of His cock in whichever hole Master C has chosen to take His pleasure from. Once again, I am helpless as His cock pounds my cunt or my arse. My arms and shoulders strain as He pulls back, pulling me on to Him as He fucks me.

I love it when Master C fastens He belt around my neck, pulling it tighter as He fucks my mouth, forcing His cock deep into my throat. I love how His belt constricts around me, choking me, denying me air, making my lungs burn as Master C force feeds me His lovely cock.

Sometimes, when Master C fucks me, He will hold His belt across my neck as He drives His cock into my cunt; holding me down, depriving me of air. As He fucks me, He alternates His grip on either side of the belt, easing then increasing the constriction. When Master C fucks me from behind, He will pull more firmly on the belt, tightening it around my neck as He take me hard. In either way, with Master C above me or behind me, fucking my cunt or my arse, the anoxia intensifying the sensations as He takes me along the path to the brink of my climax; the need for release competing with the increasing need to breathe until, so often, it is that first shuddering inhalation that provides the spark to ignite my orgasm.

For all of the things I love about Master C’s belt and the way He wields and uses it to hurt me and pleasure me, what I love most of all, however, is the way it marks my pale white skin, branding me with the mark of Master C’s ownership, his domination and his mastery of me.

For all these reasons, and more, I love my Master’s belt; but behind that love, the fear remains.

One way or another

This week, on No True Way, we’re being asked to consider the following:

“A switch is not a real Dom/sub.”

Now, this is not a topic I really have any experience with but, as with all things, I would say that context is key.

I am pretty sure that there is absolutely no way that anyone would ever consider me to be Dominant, especially in my relationship with Master C, but as I have mentioned many times on here, being submissive does not, in the context of our dynamic, mean me being passive and having no input into what goes on, or the kind of things I want to do and have done to me.

I’ve written before that Master C expects me to communicate my wants, needs and desires, and we have evolved a means by which I can do this in a way that is consistent with my submission to him. As my Master, He is, of course, free to interpret and act upon my requests as He sees fit; but that is how it should be.

There are also times where it suits Master C to let me take the lead. He is happy for me to do “the heavy lifting” as it were, and provide most of the effort while He enjoys the fruits of my efforts. This doesn’t make me any less submissive; it is simply another way in which I care for Him and provide for His needs.

Of course, as anyone who reads this blog will be fully aware, Master C, is not the only person that I have sex with. In addition to our poly sharing circle, there are both “The Girl” and “The Other Guy” and there are also my randoms.

Within the sharing circle, I am absolutely submissive. I may occasionally be required to “Dominate” one of the other submissives in the group, but that does not come naturally to me, and I am still doing it as a submissive act in that I am doing it for the gratification of either Master C, or the Master of the other submissive that I am being required to “Dominate”. Essentially though, it is play acting. I do it because that is the task that has been set me, not because I am naturally inclined to do so.

With “The Other Guy”, while I do not submit to him, where our kinks are concerned, I am still the submissive partner. I will still ask him if he would like me to suck his cock, or if he would like to eat me out or fuck my arse. I will still take instruction from him when he tells me to bend over, or get down on my knees/all fours. I am still very much submissive even though I am not his submissive.

When I am with “The Girl”, there really isn’t any D/s element to our sex at all. We’ve know each other since childhood, been sexual partners since our teens and we just do what feels right and comes naturally to us. Where such things require it, we will take it in turns to be the one doing things to the other, but there is no primacy between us; we simply share the moments we have together and do whatever happens.

The only time that sex is entirely on my own terms is with a random. I single them out, I pick them off, and then we do whatever it is I’m in the mood for, whether that simply be sucking them off or getting fucked in the arse in a dark alley. With randoms it’s really all about what I want from a partner in that moment; it’s the rush, the thrill and excitement of the illicit in the sure and certain knowledge that I will be punished for it later.

Now, while my extra-curricular couplings undoubtedly confirm my slut credentials, none of these things, however, qualifies me as a “switch”. at the end of the day, I submit to Master C, and only to Master C. He is the only one to whom my submission has been offered. Again, as I have written before, I am His submissive at all times, not just when we are engaging in sex or kink related activities. I am His submissive when I’m at work, I am His submissive when I’m pushing the trolley round the supermarket (irrespective of whether or not I’ve been instructed to wear a butt-plug, nipple-clamps, ben-wa balls while I am out and about), I am His submissive when I’m asleep. To me, “switching” doesn’t enter into it, it doesn’t matter what I am doing or, indeed, who I am doing it with, I have submitted to Master C and I am His submissive in every way and at all times.

Accepting pain

Balance, in the context of a D/s relationship is, I believe, constantly evolving. As a submissive learns their limits and boundaries, so must the Dominant evolve to be able to help the submissive explore and then possibly further expand those limits. A common perception about D/s is that it is the Dominant partner who sets the rules, but actually it is very much a two-way conversation.

By way of example, I will use my own relationship with pain.

Pain is a big thing for me. I’ve discovered that it centres and balances me. I’ve written many times about my need for a restorative thrashing, about how I need to feel Master C’s belt or paddle or cane on my buttocks, how I heed to feel His hand constrict my throat when He fucks me, how I need Him to fuck me hard in the cunt, in the arse, in the throat, and to show me no mercy when He is using me. I want that treatment; I need that treatment. I am, without doubt, very much a masochist.

Master C, on the other hand, is not by nature particularly sadistic. He is very much the guide, protect and nurture sort of Dominant; he prefers to educate rather than to correct.

The problem for Master C is that He has me as His submissive, and I need a lot of correction. Again, I’ve mentioned it many times on here, but I will often go out of my way to require “correction”; I will contrive to be punished just so I can have that slap of His hand on my face, the kiss of His belt or the bit of the cane on my arse.

A big part of the evolution of our dynamic has been for Master C to go against His natural inclinations, He is really a big softie at heart, and to administer the discipline I need and to inflict the levels of pain that take me out of myself. There are times when my life is getting on top of me that I need Master C to break me down and rebuild me. I need Him to really hurt me.

Despite the fact that He will often precede such a session with an admonishment to me to “be brave”, this is when Master C needs to find the courage and steel Himself to do something that He admits, were it not for our D/s context, He would find abhorrent.

It really isn’t me that is being brave when I’m fastened securely in place and enduring the pain of whatever implement has been chosen to leave its marks on my skin and turn my buttocks a deep, angry shade of crimson; it is Master C. He has to find it in Himself to hurt me and take me to the very limits of what I can bear, and that is no easy task. He knows what I want, He knows that I accept such treatment willingly, He knows that this is who I am; that the woman He loves and who submits to Him, needs Him to hurt her.

I’ve seen the anguish behind His eyes, the clenching of His jaw as He raises His belt. I have sensed His relief at the end of a particularly hard session, when He runs me a bath or just holds me tight against Him, soothing me with His hands, His words and just His presence. Master C knows that when I say “Thank you, Sir!” after one of those sessions, that I genuinely DO mean it; the blow-job that I am often “required” to give Him afterwards is simply a further confirmation of my gratitude; and as I’ve pointed out countless times, I never really need an excuse to have Master C’s cock in my mouth.

I don’t need to be brave when Master C punishes me; I need that pain and I know that ultimately He has a limit beyond which He will not go. It is Master C who needs to be brave and my gratitude towards Him for finding the courage to regularly satisfy such a deep-rooted need in me is boundless.

 

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.

Hauddin ma wheesht

I am feeling a wee bit torn by the current prompt on the No True Way site:

“A submissive knows that they should learn to control their tongue when annoyed with their dominant.”

In so many ways, I agree with this statement. Largely this is because I am actually quite an irritable cow and most of the time, when Master C annoys me, it is unintentional and He’s just caught me at a bad moment. By His very nature, while He may be stern and strict when He needs to be (and having me as his sub/partner, that can be quite frequent), Master C really isn’t an annoying person. He may occasionally get angry at things (and sometimes, with justification, those things will include me, and I then get annoyed that He’s angry), but He never goes out of His way to annoy me. It is fair to say that, if I get annoyed at Master C , it almost certainly reflects more on me than it does Him; that is simply the kinds of people we are. That being the case, I probably should do a better job of not taking my propensity to get annoyed at things out on Him.

There is a slight drawback here, however. While I am submissive, I am definitely not meek and I am far from pliant. Part of our dynamic is that Master C constantly has to remind me who is “in charge” and has to “bend me to His will”. I can, by my own admission, be something of a brat.

The upshot of this is that there are times where I want, and indeed need, Master C to be strict with me; I need to feel the slap of His hand or the kiss of His belt on the skin of my bare arse. I need that touch, its harshness, its pain; and sometimes, in order to get what I need, I need to provoke the response out of Him.

It is entirely wilful on my part and when Master C finally can take no more of my impudence, when He puts me over His knee, Or bends me over the arm of the sofa, or edge of the bed; knickers (assuming I was wearing any) round my ankles, waiting for His punishment, I will absolutely be deserving of it in whatever form He decides is appropriate.

It is, however, a high risk strategy on my part. Master C has the patience of a saint and, dear only knows, He needs it having to live with me, so there is always a risk that the “punishment” He decides to mete out is simply to just ignore my behaviour and deny me the satisfaction He knows I am trying to wheedle out of Him. This, of course, only annoys me even more and ratchets my frustration levels up a few more notches.

Ultimately though, it’s part of who we are; it’s one of the things we do. We are both human and getting annoyed is part of being human. We can choose to bury it and let it fester, or we can acknowledge it and express it in ways get i out of the system.

So, yes, I acknowledge that there are times when I should just haud ma wheesht, but being me, there are times when I just don’t want to.

Foundations

In their 1999 track, “Affirmation”, the band Savage Garden wrote:

I believe you can’t control or choose your sexuality
I believe that trust is more important than monogamy

In a way, those words are central to my view of myself, and my relationship with Master C.

I make no bones about the fact that I consider myself to be bisexual. I am sexually attracted by both men and women. I’ve mentioned before that the first time another person brought me to orgasm, it was, quite literally, at the hands of another girl; “The Girl” to be precise. I won’t repeat the details as you can read them if you follow the link to that earlier post, but the point was, at no time did what I was doing with “The Girl” seem in any way wrong. Yes, as I alluded to in that earlier post, the nature of all-girls schooling being what it was, while no one wanted to be known as a virgin, no one particularly wanted to be openly branded as a slut (although we “sluts” were quite happy to compare slutiness notes and tips within our own friend circles). The only thing “worse” than being a slut was, almost inevitably, to be a “lez”.

Of course, by the time I left school at 18, I was no longer a virgin and had had a number of sexual partners, both male and female and, name-calling aside, it all felt good and right. Sex with male and female partners was different, and different partners did different things, but it was all sex and it was all about pleasure and it was all good (apart from the times where it wasn’t, but, sadly, bad sex happens sometimes; we all have had our disappointments somewhere). Never, at any point did I ever feel the need to pigeonhole myself into a category that potentially limited how I could enjoy myself and who I could enjoy myself with.

I was fortunate. I had a good relationship my mother where I could discuss sex and sexuality openly. And, while I didn’t give her a running tally of how many  partners I’d had, I was able to talk to her about the fact that I was attracted to, and had had sex with boys and girls. My mum’s advice was essentially, if fucking someone makes you happy, go ahead and fuck them (she didn’t use those exact words, but they convey her meaning). That, essentially, since the earliest days of sexual awakening has been central to my self-image and approach to my sex life.

So, that’s the first line of the quote dealt with, now on to the second…

At no time in our relationship have Master C or I been exclusive. When we first met, we were essentially fuck-buddies/friends-with-benefits and both of us had other arrangements in addition to what we shared with each other. When we became a couple, we agreed at the outset that, given our history, and the nature of our personalities (mine, I suspect, more so than Master C’s) that even attempting to be exclusive would be pointless. We both knew that even if we could do it, it almost certainly wouldn’t satisfy either of us , and, in the worst case scenario, could possibly drive an irreparable wedge between us.  The solution was, quite simply, total honesty. Even before we became what would now be recognised as D/s, there was still the requirement that we were both free to fuck anyone else, so long as we were always honest about it.

This isn’t to say that there weren’t jealousies and insecurities, because we are both human, but it allowed us to find something that worked and what would, ultimately, lay the foundation of our D/s dynamic. In a way, Master C telling me how much pleasure another woman had given Him would become a kind of punishment or a form of humiliation for me. Me admitting to my indiscretions and having to be disciplined in order to atone for them, would, of course bring corporal punishment into the mix. In a very real sense, our particular D/s dynamic evolved out of a recognition that, so long as we were emotionally “faithful” to each other by being open and honest, the “need” for monogamy disappeared.

This does not mean that other emotional attachments aren’t allowed. There is obviously a very strong emotional (as well as sexual) bond between “The Girl” and me that extends back more than a decade before I’d even met Master C. There is also a lesser, but still strong emotional attachment between “The Other Guy” and me as well. For His part, Master C  is very closely attached to one of the other women in our poly circle. The point is, that we know about this, and we are honest about these things, both with ourselves and with each other. While some of them may be friends, or perhaps a little more, the various sexual others in our lives are simply people we have sex with, either on our own, or together. None of those others, however, share a bond with us that is anything like the bond that Master C and I share. We are partners in every sense. If I’m allowed to be vomit-inducingly cringe-worthy for a second, we complete each other. Yes, we love, we fuck and sometimes we fight but, most importantly, we share, we confide, we support, we occasionally drive each other nuts, we argue and then we make up (and there’s almost always fucking involved). All of those are foundations of not just our D/s dynamic, but our relationship and our lives together, and they are all built on the bedrock of openess, honesty and trust.