Of bodies, bonds, and blogs: on leading, breeding, and finding common ground.
The response to yesterday’s ramble was rather positive and seems to give me indication that this is the mark my audience want from me, so I thank you for that. I don’t know that I will get to ramble every day, some days might not be ramble worthy, but I will try and make them valuable and consistent.
As always it’s been an interesting exchange of provocations and escalations with Sir JGood and myself. Sir tried to involve Master Levi yesterday and I said that Master could be a “wise man” or a “fool” — he could stay out of this and have peace for himself, or he could “join forces” with Sir JGood and meet my wrath. Those were his choices, I was cool either way.
Master is a smart man — Master chose not to get involved, and realising that Master wasn’t going to get involved, I think, calmed Sir down somewhat. Poor Mr Valkyries, he wanted to form an alliance and he was left fighting his own battles instead. So sad, too bad, nevermind 😉
I am waiting for another product to arrive for me to review on behalf of Lovehoney, so that will be interesting — I was chosen to review the Bondage Boutique intimate part spreader. I’m meeting it with an equal mix of curiosity and apprehension: Sir JGood already knows about my love-hate relationship with steel speculums (they’re indignifying, but the cold and the stretching sensations are oddly arousing for me), and of course he had to torment me about that. I don’t imagine that it will feel quite the same, though I do wonder what it will do to my submissive psyche. To be, well, intimately spread like that.
This morning I woke up at 9AM sharp – later than weekdays, but still not late. Master was already awake and dressed, or dressed-ish – he was lounging next to my naked form in a pair of jeans.
“G’morning” he says cheerily.
“Morning” I reply back.
“Sleep well?”
“I think so, why?”
“Just asking”. Okay then.
One thing led to another, and Master kissed me in a good morning kiss that lingered. I don’t think either of us planned it, but now we’re here.
Master moves to release himself from his jeans and I slide a heel up his denim-clad calf, my eyes searching his, imploring.
“Leave them on” I whisper.
“My jeans?”
I nod and bite my lip.
“You bad girl!” he grins down at me, and fills me with his cock.
His sex with me is not rough but nor is it gentle, it’s passionate and purposeful. What started off as something we did out of convenience has become our new routine: every Saturday morning he uses me; says he “save(s) myself up” for me.
And that, in turn, has done something to my submissive psyche. Like it or not, every Saturday morning and without fail, my body now prepares to be bred. It wants to be bred – nothing else gets to appear on my agenda.
Something else has happened: Master comes first. I know that for many a modern woman that sounds horrendous, but for me, it’s a way for him to establish his authority. As awful as it sounds, I don’t mind it – my pleasure is guaranteed, I just have to wait a while.
He sends me away to wash – he wants me on his tongue.
Something else that I’ve been thinking about since this time and last: it’s occurred to me how many men enjoy me/ the thought of me for the purposes of oral sex – the number of men (especially Dominant-identifying men) who want to go down on me. So, this is something of a service that I’ve learned I’ll have to provide: their pleasure is my pleasure, even if they’re seemingly pleasing me.
I suppose also, the pleasure I derive in being their pleasure might have been what drove me to write this story.
I took action on something today, a decision that I’d made last night and started drafting out around the same time but finished earlier – I emailed my ex-friend and Dominant, Bill. No, it wasn’t about the relationship that we had together; It was about our friendship and the work that we used to do together, that is important now more than ever. Bill and I are both British sex and kink bloggers, and with the UK’s new laws surrounding pornography, it’s strong and united voices like ours (and others) that can be beacons for change.
I admitted about a week ago that it still hurts to think about the situation surrounding our break-up and the subsequent loss of our once iron-clad friendship. and in a recent post (yesterday), Bill said that it was “heavy” that he was no longer communicating with me. I realised then the bizarrerie of the situation: we were both orbiting one another, both still caring about one another and both hurting over the loss of our friendship. Wasn’t it better (for us and everyone else) then if we stopped the orbiting, put our differences aside and just… talked?
So I reached out to Bill. I haven’t heard back from him yet, but I shall remain hopeful. After all, and to quote the Bible, “a house divided against itself cannot stand.”
I do know that Bill isn’t seeking to rekindle a relationship with me, and I’m quite fine with that, I’m not looking for that either. This isn’t about that; this is about our friendship and the important work we do together.
This morning I received three missed calls, all whilst I was up a stepladder. Predictably, they were all from Mr C.
So concerned, I called him back.
Turns out he didn’t mean to call me, but whilst he had me on the phone, he thoroughly enjoyed talking my ear off the for best part of thirty minutes. I wish I could say it was about anything much, mostly tax, national insurance contributions and health insurance costs in the good ol’ US of A.
Sir JGood did ask me about my visit from my father-in-law today, which was mildly disconcerting. He’s memorised my schedule already?
Sir said that he is a “cursed man” with a good memory, and schedules are high on the list for him. More disconcerting, then, is that I may now have an unintended “breeding schedule”. I’m not sure how I feel about that.
My father-in-law got his candle too, that I’d promised him two weeks ago. He’d joked that he didn’t have an (LED) candle on his dinner table like we did, so this fortnight, I made sure he did — in a cute little kitty cat tealight holder for the Cat’s Protection League volunteer.
He’ll think twice next time he thinks to torment me 😉
The Thoughts & Musings Of Mrs Wolfie 
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