Slavery, Submissiveness and Becoming Unexpectedly Aroused in Tesco's Car Park

It's probably clear now that our lifestyle has a number of different 'levels' that I, in particular, live within for certain periods of time.   So it's probably worth a quick note on names and things just to clarify matters so you don’t get too confused! 

When I’m in slave mode- that lowliest, but often most satisfying and, to be honest, most securest mode as I pretty much relinquish all responsibility for myself- which is paradoxically, fabulously liberating- I call my husband My Lord, and will refer to him as such in this diary.  Out of slave mode and into a standard submissive [but still flirty] housewife one, I refer to him usually as Alistair or, if I am feeling or of course being made to be particularly submissive, I call him ‘Sir.’  ‘Master’ was used from the outset by me, and for old times I sometimes slip back into using that title for him.to him, and it now adds an extra bit of nostalgic ‘frisson’ to our relationship at any particular time and I use it to my own ends I must admit, usually when I am being caned or spanked, and I need that extra bit of enthusiasm put into his swipes at my bottom.

I was out shopping this morning and went down to the High Street for some bits and bobs.  It’s still not that cold despite being the end of December and I put on a yellow and white small checked cotton dress, a little denim jacket  topped off with a Hermes scarf Alistair had got me for by birthday a couple of years ago and of course the obligatory,  yellow high heels.  I love those shoes- shiny canary yellow, you can spot me a mile off in them, just how I like it.

Well Santa's Little Helper Gets a Mouthful [and more]

Christmas Eve went as planned, anyway!  It's always nice when a plan goes to..well...plan :))

Not that it's particularly difficult to get what I want from Alistair during the Festive Season.  He usually hunkers down into tired but lovable hubbie mode; it must be something to do with mulled wine, mince pies and the world stopping- for a little while anyway, not that it stops for very long these days, not like it did when we were younger.  Now everything is closed for just one day, Christmas Day, then everything returns to that endless shopping opportunity routine.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not adverse to shopping- what girl is- but I must admit I like that feeling when everything seems to have ground to a halt, the world outside has slowed down a little and life is that little bit simpler.

Probably explains why I enjoy the role of being a submissive wife.  It makes things simpler, but as I've said before, not necessarily less interesting....

Santa Baby

Trying to get my blog to look just right hen I have a chance...I think it's coming together.  Busy time at the moment, with it being Christmas Eve, although alistair isn't being overly demanding of me at the moment.  I'm hoping for a good seeing to later this evening though, when I do my Santa Baby routine for him, I'll let you know how that turns out!

The 'pin-up' template I was using for a week or so was fun, but i wanted to keep this blog relatively 'business-like,' but I liked it so much I'm going to use that other template for a blog I'm going to associate with this one- a more 'girly' place- which I'll probably call the'Naughty Housewife' or something.  I'll put a link up to it as soon as it takes shape.

I hope you like the photo in my header- I'm wearing a pair of my favourite blue shoes and my panties are just where I like them...around my ankles!  Ah, I'm such a happy little slut :)

Meanwhile, Merry Christmas and, for those of such a persuasion, I wish you a spankingly good New Year!

Garden Centre Treats

 
The days go by… part of our lifestyle is the turn-over of routine; we hardly live constantly on the cusp of endless excitement as we are obviously not super-human. But that’s not a problem; I –we- don’t find routine a chore because it is built into The Lifestyle, and therefore a constant source of inner satisfaction. It’s called having your cake and eating it.

We go through days sticking to a meticulous schedule and it gives me comfort. It is wonderful to know exactly what I am supposed to be doing and precisely when- and then know I will get rewarded in some way for whatever I do. And I mean whatever. If My Lord is pleased with one of my completed tasks- say a sparklingly clean cooking hob- then he may treat me to a [small] box of fine Belgian chocolates or some particularly expensive lingerie, although of course arguably the latter is as much as a treat for him as it is for me!

If I perform the task poorly- say my cleaning of the blinds in the bathroom has been particularly slapdash due to airheaded daydreaming- I may end up chained to the bathroom plumbing, gagged, with pegs on my nipples an iron clamp on my vaginal lips, with my buttocks red and sore after a severe spanking. Needless to say, I often deliberately under-perform in my domestic duties…

Play Room Barbie

Friday night and Alistair came home cranky. Long week. I made a nice Beef Wellington and he opened a bottle of Merlot. He was tense but I was alive with anticipation; the worse his mood, the more chance I had of some rough- but very sexy- treatment, and I felt as if I had deserved that, I needed to be chastised and the gruffer and more off hand he became through dinner, the wetter I became.

I’ve already mentioned the play room. All manner of things go on in there, but one of its main functions is, simply, as a ‘toy’ playroom. My name is Barbara and guess what that reduces nicely down to? That’s right, Barbie, and one of my master’s favourite games is just that- I am his Barbie doll, his very own little fuck dolly and, of course, I dress to suit.

Pink is always the theme, well what else could it be? As I am filling the dishwasher the possibilities of what lies ahead jostle for attention across my mind’s eye. Will he be quick or take his time? Will it involve mechanical bondage, or just his own considerable, physical, brute force? Both hold their own special allure; although being pinned down by his strong arms, or his strong grip on my hair pulling my head back as he fucks me in the arse have a very delicious appeal to my senses today.