Ch-ch-changes

So I think I might have mentioned my best friend started reading the blog recently after I accidentally told her about it (and discovered she’d actually seen one of my videos on Clips 4 Sale and not recognised me without my clothes on.)

I was a little concerned how she’d react to, you know, seeing me with an aubergine in my cunt and I wasn’t sure how my Master would react to someone who knew me personally seeing his tastes described.

I don’t know if it’s a top thing but both of them were incredibly laid back and positive about it. In fact my best friend was so positive she wrote me a guest post for the blog. Being self deprecating I wasn’t going to publish it because it says nice things about me.

But I love her writing and it deserves an appreciative audience. Plus it was eye opening for me to be reminded of the other changes (apart from my cunt and waist) I’ve made since I started being trained by my Master. I’d forgotten just emotionally feral I was before he took me on so it does me good to see that change above all else…

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes… a love letter

I apologise. I’m not Candi. Not even close. I am however, the person lucky enough to be her best friend (this has been confirmed in writing).

I met Candi eight years ago. We argue about the details, but this is what I remember. I was in an unfriendly, drab room, filled with people. I felt out of place and so, so lonely.

The door banged and I looked up. There she was. So unapologetic in every way, from her laugh to her boots, her animal prints to her eyeliner.

And I thought, hello.

I can only describe it as falling in love. Her. There she is. She needs to be my friend.

Now I am charming as fuck, but Candi was hard work. So friendly and so funny but never letting me get close. Never let me under her bra either, but that was back when she was still insisting how straight she was.

I’ll pause for laughter.

Candi fascinated me from the first moment  I saw her, and still does. I considered her my best friend after five years. She kept me in the top three but in the last two years finally moved me to Official Best Friend status. I play the long game.

Over the last few years I’ve seen Candi evolve. I like to take some credit for previous years but even I have to admit, being with her Master and Princess has changed her entirely for the better.

(A note on Princess. Christ alive. She really is as gorgeous as she looks online but let me tell you, pictures can’t cover how pretty and complicated and smart and funny she is. I adore her, anyone would.)

The most obvious change is physical. Her shape is different. She moves as if she is just about to get fucked. Her clothes show off her shape more and, how exactly did I not notice how bitable her tits were? Her love for the waist trainer was weird until I realised it matched my love for my breast binder. Both items make us into who we really are (and both need careful handwashing).

The piercings worried me at first. But seeing her joy as they healed so prettily, well, how could I object?

In fact, one night I actually viewed a clip of Candi without realising it was the woman who has been part of my life for eight years. And because it’s us, we howled with laughter when I realised and told her later. No shame. Never any shame.

What she can do with her body amazes me. I will say now, on record, I am so proud of her cunt. Yes, I tease her mercilessly and don’t eat anything in her fridge without checking where it’s been. But she is like an Olympian to me. She has worked and struggles and trained so hard – now she can do things most of the population couldn’t even imagine.

But it isn’t just physical, of course. I hesitate to use the word change because what I’ve had the honour of witnessing is Candi becoming who she is. She is in love. She is loved. And it shines out of her.

(Another Princess side note. The first time I met Princess I peeked in the living room and saw Candi and Princess holding hands, kissing and giggling like school girls. I had to walk away again because I thought I would cry. I never thought Candi would allow herself to be that vulnerable. That loved. That happy. Also I was hoping they’d get naked)

Candi has always been sharp and funny and filthy as fuck but now she isn’t so afraid to open up. To let people need her. Because I need her, the real her, not the shiny glossy version, but the Candi Master and Princess uncovered and dragged out into the light. But don’t think for one minute she takes any shit. True story, we met at a volunteer training day and we were the only two volunteers who had to repeat the “healthy boundaries” class twice because we didn’t get what boundaries were.

She’s gone from that woman to a force of nature who advocates for herself and others, whether that’s by cutting people out of her life who made her unhappy or simply speaking her truth.

I love all the Candis I’ve known. But this Candi is a better friend to me now because she is present and honest and unashamed. We can talk about anything without judgement because I’ve seen her heart and she has seen mine. I’ve seen who she really is and she is glorious.

 

 

 

Ch-ch-changes

Tit Tease

 

Shibari chest harness rope bondage
You didn’t think I’d tease you with the promise of a Shibari chest harness and not let you see it did you? That’s just what my Master, best friend and I have been doing to Princess all weekend in fact. Not even a little peek for the Brat Princess yet.

I enjoyed the cotton rope around my wrists and ankles but switching to the hemp rope for the chest harness definitely took things up a notch. It engages the senses much more in all ways from the smell to the texture to the feel of it moving on your skin.

Not as coarse as I was expecting, the sensation more triggered a tingle along my spine and made me want to sit up straight in the chair with my senses engaged. The rope slipped over my skin easily and each wrap around my torso tightened in a comforting way as the waist trainer feels.

And I could feel the rope having an effect on my tits almost instantly as they lifted and seemed to get bigger and fuller like I was wearing the most flattering bra ever. I loved it and never wanted to take it off.

Except to try it again without the practical sports bra I was wearing to be the guinea pig. It’d be worth going without the corset for…

chest harness b&w

Tit Tease

A Strong Bond

Double column tie Shibari rope bondage

I think we all know I have a fairly interesting life but even I was surprised to spend my Saturday afternoon being tied up. Especially since it wasn’t my Master doing it.

Instead I volunteered to help my best friend learn the new skill of Shibari or Japanese rope bondage by being his willing assistant and my Master kindly shared me in return for some photographs.

I’ve never been tied up before unless you count the occasional bed restraints and a very formative childhood experience where some of my brother’s friends tied my hands to a stepladder leaving me kneeling there for ages with a couple of other girls. I think it was a good old fashioned game of Cowboys and Indians that went a little bit darker than the parents who came looking for us eventually were happy with.

I remember the other girls were crying and objecting while I found it the most peaceful experience to the extent where I wondered if there was something ‘wrong’ with me. I felt so incredibly disappointed when I was untied and made to get up and then told how awful it was. I could have stayed there all night frankly. I was about six and I guess that was my first experience of subspace.

I usually like the comforting feeling of being contained by a waist trainer or a blindfold or some kind of restraint but I wondered if rope would make me feel panicky and constricted but I trust my best friend implicitly and there would be no issue if I didn’t like it and no one would be left disappointed and horny.

But I liked being tied up a lot. She started simply with hand ties using a smooth silk rope that felt fantastic against my skin. Despite me knowing nothing about Shibari, I knew instantly when she’d got the ties right because they supported my joints perfectly and took the weight for me allowing me to hold my arms (and later legs) up more easily than I could do myself.

One of the annoying symptoms of my illness is chronic joint and muscle pain and I was slightly concerned being tied up would increase that. I was thrilled to discover that it actually helped and looked much more erotic and submission than using heaped up cushions or stopping to shift position.

We had a lot of fun and laughter and a surprising lack of weirdness about what we were doing and I was impressed how easily she handled the rope and make it work for her. I also enjoyed discussing with her in her top role what I as a submissive would enjoy with Shibari.

There is a real sense of vulnerability and trust in allowing someone to tie you up and we both agreed that this was a time blindfolds wouldn’t work for either of us but instead being told to focus on a certain spot or keep your eyes closed would add more frisson and less friction.

Oddly all the discussion of how submissive rope play is was making me much brattier than usual because by the time I sent the photos of her handiwork to my Master, I was so sure I wanted to try it with him that I was tempted to demand it and pout if he refused.

He was rather impressed by her skills and my enthusiasm and didn’t sound like he needed much persuasion. I hope he has some knot tying skills. Especially when we moved onto the hemp rope and a chest harness next and took it all up a notch…

Spreader ankle tie Shibari rope bondage

 

A Strong Bond

Smooth Shaven

It slightly surprises me now that I was so resistant to shaving my cunt for my Master considering how much I’ve liked the feel of shaved skin over the years. But razors have always been a sign of me being in control not someone else.

When I was fifteen and had hair down to my waist and slightly egged on by my rebellious cousin, I shaved myself a fairly dramatic undercut with a Bic razor which I revelled in seeing if anyone at school would notice under my incredibly thick hair.

The fact they didn’t just encouraged me and over the next twenty odd years I’ve continued to wear my hair in variety of styles that have involved a pair of clippers. Just the thought of getting the back of my head shaved makes me shiver with delight in a non sexual ASMR way. Although there might be something less innocent to enjoying the deep rumbling vibrations of a pair of clippers on my hairline if I cared to delve deeper into my filthy mind.

But the real power with shaving came during an old job when I worked in the cosmetics industry. I ended up working in men’s grooming and the major men’s grooming issue is shaving so my boss taught me how to shave someone’s face.

Once I got past the sheer heart stopping terror that she was teaching me with a cut throat razor on many many packets of balloons and discovered that the person you are shaving actually prefers the relaxation of a safety razor, I absolutely loved it.

There was something incredibly powerful as a woman about teaching a man how to properly do something regarded as so manly. I’d literally be holding their face in my hand, brushing against them, exposing them in a myriad of ways and it was incredibly intimate without necessarily being overtly sexual.

Often it relaxed men into confiding all kinds to me, other times it made them flirt outrageously and sometimes they had to be gently coaxed not to panic and run away from me. All accompanied by the sound and feel of a razor on skin. I loved everything about it from subverting gender norms like k.d Lang and Cindy Crawford in the Nineties to actually giving useful skincare advice.

But I especially loved the power and dominance of the act. I worked a lot with city boys and investment bankers and the kind of men who are used to telling women (especially lower status ones) what to do and enjoying that sense of entitlement.

Those men act very very differently when you’ve got a razor pressed against the taut skin of their neck and that’s a dizzying sensation for twenty five year old who usually likes submission. Especially doing this in their workplace, not like the times I’d also wet shaved my boyfriend’s head several times.

So the idea of using a razor to submit rather than be in charge confused me when my Master gave me the order to shave my cunt. Maybe I’d have got my head round it quicker if he’d suggested doing it for me like this incredible piece on shaving your sub’s cunt

 

 

 

 

Smooth Shaven

John Holmes

I think we all know I like that John Holmes toy a lot. It’s gone from being a monster I could barely manage any of to my standard dildo these days and it never fails to please me or my Master when I use it.

I was aware that it’s modelled on the real life cock of legendary porn star John Holmes thanks to the booklet that comes with it when you buy it. But I had no idea his life was quite as dramatic as it was until my best friend sent me a link to this essay about him from Rolling Stone magazine the other night.

Almost as long as his cock, it’s well worth a read especially if you like good journalism or true crime. I always thought the film Boogie Nights was based on his life, but they clearly toned it down a bit to get their Oscar nominations. I can see why.

But a little trip round Google lead me to discover that John Holmes did not exactly tone it down in his porn career. Many of the clips are available on PornHub and his cock really was as eye-poppingly huge in real life as in its silicone namesake.

It’s a pity he really does look like a pervy accountant to off set a cock like that, but I was amused and surprisingly aroused by some of the porn clips. We’ll skip over the fascination with fifteen year old girls in them but they look like real people fucking for fun which is sorely missing for me in a lot of modern porn.

I don’t like that slickness with mainstream porn where each sexual act is a tick box and the orgasm is literally a money shot to sell as many clips as possible. There’s something far too brisk and business-like about a lot of porn these days. Like watching people have one night stands where they try to score sexual points rather than enjoy many perverted pleasures human bodies can combine to offer.

I like my smut more realistic than styled and enjoyed the fact the John Holmes’ clips had that amateur reality instead of professional glossiness that somehow renders sex decidedly unsexy. I do see where the unfortunate trope of bad acting in the non porn bits comes from though!

I think I’m going to find it very interesting indeed the next time I play with my John Holmes toy after that little history lesson though…

John Holmes

Still Horny

So yesterday I wrote about not having been particularly horny recently through ill health. Today my libido returned with such force I had to cross my legs while reading this amazing piece by Girl on the Net about being still and submissive.

I have managed to miss two opportunities to kneel for my Master recently by not paying enough attention to my orders and I regretted it at the time. After reading that I’m almost holding my breath with disappointment and desire thinking about being still and obedient for him.

Thinking about it reminds me why we say we are excited by sex. The urge goes as much to my stomach to create butterflies as to my cunt to create horniness. I need to make sure not to spoil an order again next time…

 

 

Still Horny

Ill Communication

I’ve been quiet for the last few weeks because I’ve been a bit under the weather and haven’t been up to writing much. Eagle eyed readers might notice this has happened before that ill health has kept me away from sex and blogging and they’d be quite right.

Since childhood I’ve suffered from a fluctuating chronic illness that causes pain and fatigue and often leaves me bed bound and unable to manage full time work and day to day life. In some ways it’s the greatest influence on my life and in other ways it’s so normal that I often forget to mention it.

I also can’t shake the idea that it’s just not very sexy. Sick beds and prescription painkillers aren’t the stuff of erotica for most people (you’ll note there’s very very little illness in all those naughty nurse role plays or medical fetish stuff.)

I also spend so much of my time dealing with symptoms and medical appointments etc that I enjoy having the break from that glum reality with the fun and fantasy of my sex life  and kink and often don’t care to mix them for my own sake of mind.

But sometimes I can’t help but allow the two aspects of my life to come together. After all I’ve been ill since before I hit puberty so I’ve never had sex without my illness in the mix and I’ve had to adapt my sexual style to allow for my limitations with pain and fatigue. I sometimes wonder if my submissiveness is borne out of that as it tends to be quite restful in its own way?

I hate to be seen defective in any way for being ill. I loathe when people make it obvious you are their worst nightmare with a serious chronic incurable autoimmune illness that no amount of exercise and good diet can protect you against. And I’ll leave it to the much missed Stella Young to explain why ‘inspiration porn‘ can fuck right off and then fuck off a bit more.

I’m also not fond though of being treated like a social outcast for being ill as if I’m not trying hard enough or not doing the ‘right’ things. Medicine and science haven’t worked out the human immune system yet (and interestingly 90% of research into it is on men’s immune systems despite 85% of all autoimmune disease sufferers being women) so there isn’t much the power of positive thinking will do to cure me or you getting huffy when I tell you yoga isn’t actually a valid option here.

I get it though. Society is weird about illness and even weirder about disability generally and it took me a long time to be able to use the word ‘disability’ in relation to myself because it’s always seen as such a negative, frightening thing or as a synonym for wheelchair user. I avoided using the word for fear of scaring people away or having them argue I wasn’t ‘properly’ disabled.

Under the Equality Act 2010 in the United Kingdom a disability is “if you have a physical or mental impairment that has a ‘substantial’ and ‘long-term’ negative effect on your ability to do normal daily activities.” It doesn’t just mean visible disabilities or the stuff you see in the Paralympics and it’s possible for people to have the same condition and have a varying level of disability from it.

This why your Great Aunt Doris’ neighbour’s cousin was cured of the same thing by the power of prayer and a multivitamin and someone else needs to give up work because of it. People are different and many conditions also fluctuate or are progressive with age.

Which is why I’m absolutely certain no one who reads this blog would have looked at those photos of me with a butternut squash up my cunt and thought I was disabled. Being ill is pretty much the only thing that stops me being horny and even then sometimes it doesn’t completely stop me so while I’m sleeping all the time, I have orgasms during my naps.

I used to find it deeply frustrating not to be well enough to fuck all the time but now I think it might be a safety feature to protect my cunt from breaking itself from over use. My Master summed it up well recently when he said my body could be incredibly frustrating sometimes, but also capable of some quite wonderful things at the same time.

It’s quite fitting that the first man I’ve ever actually told about being ill when I met him should sum up the very nature of disability so well…

Ill Communication