I knew what I was wearing today, long before I’d even got up, I knew what I wanted to wear. I wanted to wear it to write this instalment of this exciting venture with Penny Berry. I knew what was fitting. His choice, His preference, His favourite colour on me.
“I like this top and this one, I can’t decide. Which do you prefer?” I’d said, point at two lacy black tops on the website.
“I actually really think the navy would suit you” he said. I looked at him like he’d grown two heads. Navy?!
But he was right.
The top he chose was a navy wrap style top with floral print. Oh, how I loved that top. I always felt so pretty in it, so elegant, so His.
Since then, I’d been mindful to explore other things and other styles in navy. A plain t-shirt here, a hoodie there. Navy, navy, navy, if it wasn’t black, then it was always navy. His favourite colour on me.
He knew me, he knew what suited me, better than I knew myself, it seemed.
Before Wolfie, black was my go-to colour. Black with everything, black and no style. Black jogging bottoms with a black t-shirt and a black hoodie. I didn’t care, I wasn’t trying to impress anyone, I had no reason to be stylish. Being from a fishing family, it was never about style, it was all about comfort and practicality.
The day we met, I was wearing jeans and a grey and green sparkly t-shirt that read “You always want what you can’t have”. He didn’t want me at that time, of course he didn’t want me. Now, I blush to think where that top might have landed up if I’d worn it a mere nine months later. That wouldn’t have been a statement, he would have seen that as a challenge. I had no sense of style and I wasn’t trying to be anything back then, I was just me.
Wolfie really introduced me to the rock chick image. Black graphic t-shirts with black eyeliner and jeans became my go to because I knew he liked women that way. I learned that he liked tattoo chokers and I bought some, trying hard to win favour in his books. It kind of worked.
One of the things that Wolfie has always been very particular about is my hair. Wolfie loves my hair down, but he loves it in pigtails, too. I’ve dyed it red a couple of times, but to be honest, I think I’m kind of over that spunky image now. I’m ready to settle into a more feminine grace, an image inspired and created by Wolfie. When I put my hair up, I allow a few strands to fall and frame my face. Feminine, always for Wolfie.
One of the biggest transformations was the style of underwear that I now wear. Before Wolfie, it used to be full briefs in unflattering styles and patterns. They were comfortable and practical, so when he suggested I buy a few lace thongs for him, I was vehemently against the idea.
The first time I stepped into a little lacy black number, something in me changed. I became sensual, provcocative, I became an unleashed and unbound sexual goddess. It didn’t support my buttocks in the way my usual choice did, it sat between them, awakening me and inticing me to new sensations in forbidden places.
Oh, that’s new.
None of the things that I wear are hard and fast rules, but Wolfie does have his preferences. My black graphic t-shirt with the metal loop detail is a firm favourite. It sits at the neck and serves perfectly like an O ring when I’m being cheeky. He likes to grab it when I act up and remind me that he’s in charge. I never last long after that.
Perhaps one of the biggest differences between us and many other dynamics is the absence of a day collar. For many couples, it is a marker of their dynamic and their commitment and yet for us, it simply isn’t necessary. We have played around with symbolic jewellery on several occasions and we only ever found that it eroded while I was swimming, got left on the side while I washed up or got tangled up in my hair and pulled huge chunks out no matter how delicately it was removed. In the end, it was simple and enough for us to accept that this was purely a matter of the heart.
In a scene, I wear a black lace babydoll with my collar, a simple, black leather collar with a heart charm. I keep my frangrance sweet, my hair down and my make-up simple. Again, they are all ways in which Wolfie likes to have me, and likes to have me for his darkest intentions.
For me, I don’t have any uniforms. I have outfits and styles for every occasion, but no uniforms. If I wanted to pair a velvet top with black trousers instead of my navy lace dress so that we could go out for dinner, Wolfie would be absolutely fine with that. The golden rule is simple to remember and follow: Dress to impress, but be able to walk in those shoes!
The one thing that was perhaps missed out but fits well in this category is fragrance, I am
spoilt lucky enough to possess fragrances from some of the biggest names on the market, including but not limited to Armani, Gucci and Valentino, all courtesy of the wonderful man that I am married to. Sophisticated floral scents are now at the heart of what I wear, with Caroline Herrara’s Good Girl making it to my collection for when I’m perhaps not being such a good girl.
To conclude this chapter, I will say that what you wear does not define who you are as a submissive. Being submissive really is a matter of the heart, and I am every bit the submissive when I am sat on the harbour wall in a hoodie and jeans as I am when I’m kneeling on the floor in leather and lace. What you wear does not define who you, what defines you is how you choose to be.
Hugs & kinky cuddles,