A long and wonderful day.

It seems my days are either dull and predictable or busy and wonderful… and you know when I try to make it happen, plan all kinds of things to do, that is when nothing wonderful happens. I must learn to be more patient…

Anyway, yesterday, Saturday, was a wonderful day. As usual I woke early, rising with the early spring sunrise, sitting down before 6 am. And first thing, before coffee, he had me across his lap giving me a pretty thorough spanking… triggering memories of the thorough beating he gave me right before I went to sleep last night. (You know falling asleep for the night with the endorphins still singing in your head is fucking awesome?)

I spent a nice lazy hour or so reading other people’s blogs, leaving comments, reading kinky threads on Fetlife, leaving little witty comments here and there, perhaps amusing no one but myself, but all good fun.

Master was messing about with his computer and after a while calls across the room, asking how I felt about maybe going out to a “erotic improv theater” thing that night, no promises but if we are awake and interested??? Wow, Master initiating a “going out” thing… wow. I told him sure… sure, that might be fun.

Then without much warning, Master was in the bathroom, laughing about how many little plastic containers of dental floss I have stashed under the bathroom sink. (I use those “plackers” thingies and the darned dentist keeps giving me floss and I am too polite to say no? And then you just can’t throw away something like that… a “free” thing.) I was protesting and explaining when the thought occurred to me… “What is he doing under the bathroom sink?” And… “Fuck that enema bag is under there. He is going to find it.”

I was up and heading for the bathroom in an instant saying one of my favorite lines… “Is there something you are looking for? Can I help you find it?” …before he totally messed up my messy organization. He was in there and everything… I mean EVERYTHING, out from under the sink and spread across the floor.

He had decided to finally fix that slow draining sink. Again… wow! At first he was a little distracted by my store of strange items, ranging from blow dryers, to enema bags, to latex gloves, to bag balm… it is a bit of safari to go through a cupboard, any cupboard in this house. He is not the only one that has a bit of packrat problem… (Though he is worse, ten times worse than me… well, maybe not ten times.) But I quickly threw away about a dozen of the oldest dustiest items. At least I can throw some stuff away, especially once they are dragged out and displayed in the bright light of morning, he is not quite that disciplined.

He went on to clean out the drain… the nasty black clumps of hair and slime he dragged out were seriously impressive. They were somewhat reminiscent of the decomposing corpses of rats and smelled about that bad. But now the sink drains fast and clean. The place under the sink is clean and organized and I even found some descaling cleaner and the whole thing shines like new.

All this and it was not even eight o’clock a.m.

I asked if he wanted breakfast yet and he said, “No, get dressed. Let’s go for a bike ride.” So we are off and out into the cool morning air. We tooled around the neighborhood for about an hour. I was filled with snotty piss and vinegar. I kept making turns and “riding” away from him, even once taunting him that “he could not catch me.” There was no question that he can go faster than me when he is on his bike, but if he got off to grab me, I knew I could ride faster than he could run… muahahahaha… He was sputtering and threatening to spank me and I was giggling and full of freedom and spunk. But then he remembered that he did have the power, that the leash was and always will be there, and he just used his voice, ordering me to turn where he wanted me to turn. And as much as I squealed in frustration at that reminder that the freedom was an illusion, that the wind in my hair was not emancipation, I followed his directions.

And once we were home, I asked again if he wanted breakfast and he once more told me no, directing me to get my towel and join him in the shower. At first I was taken back. Sex? Now? I was awfully energized. My head was everywhere but at my pussy. But an order is an order and as much as I love to play at rebelliousness, I am nothing but eventually obedient. And there are worse things than getting fucked. And as I shed the bicycle clothes and grabbed my towel, I began rapidly, intentionally changing my mindset, my awareness sliding down to my core, putting my busy brain to sleep, stirring up my primal fires, blowing on those embers.

The sex was anything but predictable… oh, sure it started out the same, the tooth brushing, the ritual scrubbing and shaving, the expected shove to my knees, the familiar struggle to take him as far down my throat as is possible. And with the first gag, I felt those embers finally ignite into flame. Then the push and impatient lifting shove that let me know it was time to stand and bend over, giving him access to my cunt, my forehead resting in its familiar place on the end of the tub staring down at the sweet same vision of my feet, braced and straining between his larger ones. And when he shoved his thumb up my ass I grunt as the excitement ratcheted up another notch. He has been doing this more and more often, making sure my other place is filled as well. We do this, him using me one way, then without a word, signaling with a shove that it was time to return to sucking and then another shove to let me know to stand and bend over again. And then the shove is different, and I stagger for a minute confused, unsure what this new thing is, but as he pushes me down and down, to lie on my back and kneels between my legs, I finally got it and spread my legs wide, waiting for his next whim, his next wish… for his wish is my command.

He took the hand held shower attachment and set it to the harshest of pulsing sprays and directed it at my clit and smiled as I yelped and convulsed. He handed me the sprayer and watched with hot, greedy eyes as I conspired with him, pushing myself higher and higher. His hands were free and soon I found both my holes filled again, and I hovered there, teetering on the edge of orgasm, but he kept changing up the sensation, each time as I am about to slip over, there was just enough of a change in intensity and tempo to defuse the explosion and maintain the build. I didn’t know if it was his intention or just his lack of focus… but I was mindless with excitement when he pulled away and ordered me to my feet, ordered me to get out of the shower.

I was woozy with lust and I staggered as I clumsily patted and dabbed at the water on my skin. He likes that, the fact that he can take such profound control of me that he can so thoroughly turn off my head that I lose some ability to stand and walk, think and talk. By the time we reach his room I have regained some ability to function, the inferno inside me dying down slightly, but I knew it was just an intermission. I was not distracted. In fact I was already anticipating the next act of this play. He pointed at my old vibrator, the one we call “old friend” and as I reachd for it, I asked in a husky voice, “How do you want me?” And he responded he just wants to watch me for a while and I smile and turn around, facing my cunt away from him, placing my mouth at his disposal while I press the intense sensation of vibrations against my sensitized clit. He cannot resist that hungry orifice and soon I am gagging once again. It is amazing how each gag, each spasm of my throat around his hard cock, sends new waves of heat to down my whole body, feeding the fire in my belly.

Deliberately I teased myself, deliberately fighting off the orgasm that was coming at me like a freight train, twisting, moaning around the gag in my mouth. Then he was gone from my mouth, moving around the room and I wads too far gone to open my eyes or stop the rush to the finish line now. But then he is between my legs, and something, one of our toys but all I know is that it feels big is being pushed deep into my ass. It doesn’t hurt, the pressure is amazing and as he slowly pushes it in and pulls it out and pushes it back, deeper and deeper each thrust, I arch and cry out as my orgasm finally takes control of me.

And as I writhe and jerk under his hands, he turns on the vibrations in the dildo and keeps fucking me with it. I keep abusing my clit with my old friend and keep coming and coming and coming… it may have been minutes but it felt like hours. I remember, babbling nasty words, groaning, yelling, laughing and sobbing.

And only after I finally was limp and spent, did he push me around and shoved my knees up around my ears and after wetting his cock in my cunt, moved down and began fucking me up the ass. And for the first time ever, there was not the slightest bit of pain, no burn, no stretching and because I am far enough past my orgasm, I could focus totally on the sensation. It felt so good, his cock sliding in and out of my ass and with each plunge into me, I shuddered with echoes of my spent pleasure and I could feel the surrender to his will grow. And he finally tensed and filled me with his come, I felt dirty, forbidden, dark, nasty… I felt totally used, subjugated, submissive…

Our day was tinged with echoes of that, over and over I would flash back to those moments, and glance at him with happy, hot and grateful eyes… and he would laugh and ask if I was coming again. We went to the Goodwill and Salvation Army and talked about ways to pervert all those everyday items into sick and twisted toys. He was very controlling at the grocery store, repeatedly yanking me by my arm, grabbing me around the neck, growling at me to stay close by his side. Several times I caught people staring, women with envious eyes. And I could not keep a wide, satisfied grin off my face.

We did end up going out. And amazingly as we walked into the small venue where the improv was to be, I recognized a woman who attends the local submissive group with her Master. I whispered to Master that I saw someone I knew and asked his permission to say hi. I introduced him to them, and they invited us to sit at their table. We just sat there, talking about things like the finer points of the labels of slave vs. property, caning styles, subspace, bicycles, playing with other people… oh holy moley fucking moley moley… my reclusive, private, hermit Master sitting with another man who likes the same things he likes and having a conversation about kinky shit. The show was bland and only vaguely funny now and then, but it was great to get out and amazing to randomly run into someone I sort of knew… someone kinky.

Master said he had a good time and said that they seemed nice.

Bedtime was another reflection of what a wonderful day it was. As I knelt at his feet and begged permission to go to bed, he grilled me about my day, questioned me about the completion of assigned chores and actually sent me off the redo one thing a little more to his vision and when I asked, “After I do that can I go to bed?” He said no. He said, “After you do that, you come back and ask again.”

He made me kneel at his feet a long time, stroking my hair and then sent me to bed. I fell asleep quickly… it was a long and wonderful day.

Some thoughts on CNC

I was reading some stuff on Fet… and there was a big brouhaha about CNC, Consensual Non-consent.

It all revolved around this legal case where a woman who had agreed, “consented,” to be a slave. This agreement extended to “non-consent”, the concept that once the “slave” made this agreement, it gave the man, the “Master,” cart blanch to do whatever he felt was best for him and his slave, whether she agreed at the time or not… after all she had relinquished the right to agree or disagree with his actions. All she had left to do was obey or be forced.

Anyway this woman changed her mind and ran away from her “Master”. He went after her, exerted some amount of force to “make her come home” and once home proceeded to punish her and then engaged in sex, all according to the original agreement, I am sure.

Said woman managed to “escape” again, or maybe just walked over to the phone, (who knows?) and called the police. Said man was in deep, deep shit, facing charges of kidnapping, assault and rape. (I cannot help but think the dude was lucky, the bitch could have reciprocated in kind. But then again, perhaps he will have a similar experience in prison. Like I said, who knows?) As far as I am concerned, there is no questions in my mind that he broke the law, and if he ever thought that some kind of a promise or piece of paper ever would protect him from prosecution, he was criminally stupid. But then there are the larger questions about consent. It is a no brainer that currently in most, if not all, jurisdictions that what he did was illegal. But let’s not forget that most, if not all, of the things we do are illegal in most jurisdictions. Beating someone is illegal, technically you cannot consent to be assaulted. The fact that said man harbored the expectation that someone who had already broken their promise to obey, would not go to the police was, as I said before, criminally stupid. The fact that the woman had made promises and then broke them is reprehensible but I don’t want to get into the tricky place of pointing fingers and blaming victims. As far as I am concerned there are two victims here, victims of their own stupidity.

The poster of this story on Fet then went on to pose a series of questions and make several statements of fact (and/or opinion, depending upon who you are). He asked if it was ethical for persons who practice CNC, he referred to them as ‘the community’ (causing all the other non-CNC people in “the community” to raise up arms, defending themselves as “not one of those type peoples”) to present a CNC lifestyle to others without clarifying that such practices are not legal, and if you do engage in such “non-consensual” activities you could very easily end up just like said man in the story. He suggested that consent is not something someone can voluntarily relinquish.

To say he really kicked the bees nest would be an understatement. Arguments raged… they are still raging. I do not even have time to read half of the pithy, pointed, sometimes clearly thought out, many times just emotional gut reaction responses. It was all very entertaining but at the same time made me think about the nature of me and my Master’s relationship.

Are we CNC? Not really. I mean I consent to obey even if I don’t ‘want’ to at the time. I consent to having him ‘make me’ if I don’t hop to fast enough or get too mouthy. I just don’t see Master hunting me down if I was so foolish as to run away. But at the same time I do see him intervening way, way before I got so far down the crazy bitch road that I could walk out, perhaps, even intervening in ways that are not very pleasant. Does he want things from me that I don’t want to do? Sometimes, in fact, it is those very things that enforce within me the sense that he is my Master, and that I do have to obey, even when it is not fun, especially when it is not fun. If it was all fun, if it was all my wish, than it would not feel real… and I need for it to feel real. Total trust, total obedience, total surrender does not come with an if, a but or an or… it just is.

I don’t have any trouble with the concept of CNC, but for me it is more… um… consensual consent? My consent is continual and unconditional and 99% of the time I am the one “making” me do it. I am the one that needs it most, so if I fail at my own personal expectations, how can I aspire to meet his? I mean it when I say; anything, everything; it is all his, every single bit of me, there is nothing he can’t ask of me that I will not do. It does not mean automaton obedience. Hell, half the time I am bitching and complaining under my breath as I drag my sorry ass off the couch to do some stupid, useless thing. And it is the silliest damn stuff that is the hardest to swallow; the hard stuff is way easier, because it is hard.

He is fond of telling me that I cannot leave, and again I know that 99% of that is the fact that now I can’t even begin to fathom ever leaving again. I have tried enough times in the past (before slavery, before promises) to learn that it is just not possible, not because he forced me to stay but because I could not stay away. And I also know that he cannot make me leave, like Doug the dog in the movie “Up”, if he tried to throw me out like the grumpy old man did, I would just hide under the front porch for however long it took for him to come to his senses. I just can’t leave, even if he was the one saying, “Go.” That’s obedience for you… but then of course he has already given me a command that I cannot leave, so in the confusion of the moment, one would have to decide which command was paramount, the more recent or the more palatable. See, consent can be tricky.

But my consent is conditional upon one thing; it is conditional upon Master being my Master, being the same man I made this promise to. If (please insert your favorite cosmic being here) forbid, he had a stroke, got the als-hammer, lighting stuck that sweet bald head, or he was abducted by aliens and got a brain transplant… then he would not be the same man. All promises, all commitments and all contracts would become suddenly null and void… “All right, dude, what did you do with my Master???” I might even have a knife at his (it’s?) throat as I asked the question.

If he changed, so would I. If he became unable to care for himself, I would have to change from a mildly bratty slave to a sweet, caring, concerned if somewhat sadistic caretaker. What? You don’t think I wouldn’t take advantage of his incapacitation to take a little revenge for all those mind fucks? You have got to be kidding. A little old man, easily confused? Oh man, how could I resist?

If he became bonkers and wanted to cut off my arms and legs, I would have him committed to the place for crazy people. Sorry, but I just can’t go that far… Apologies to all the twoo slaves out there but I want my arms and legs, thank you. And anyway, the man who is my Master now would never contemplate such a thing. That would be total alien brain transplant stuff. I would visit from time to time. I might even bake him cookies now and then, as long as I knew he was not getting out during my life time. Or, I might just poke at it with a sharp stick, gloating… “look… look… arms, legs, I gots‘em”…

And last, if he stopped asserting himself, stopped trying to control me, stopped acting like a Master, I would not be able to keep up the act for long. I need to know he will be there to make me when the going gets rough. That’s why I need a Master, I need him there to keep me feeling safe, controlled, protected… if I did’t believe he was willing to make me, I don’t know if I could make me. I wouldn’t leave, but if he did not step back up he would wish I had.

He knows all this, I tell him often enough…

And the risk, the danger they all talk about… the fact that at any time a sub, play partner, wife, slave, or bottom… (whatever you want to call it) can take that picture of her bruised ass that she was posting so proudly on the interwebs just last week and use it to accuse that same sorry son of a bitch of a bitch of assault? Yeah, that can happen. Of course it can happen. It’s a risk we all take when we choose to trust someone, to play dangerous games with them and to believe they have the integrity to keep their promises to us. Do not love lightly my friends… it can come back to bite you in the ass.

At the same time, is the risk worth it? Oh hell yeah.

A conversation

I received a private message wanting to talk to me about my answer to a post about Master’s possibly not fulfilling their promises. I had written…

This topic resonates for me... before my commitment to my husband to become his property, most of the topics of conflict revolved around the fact/idea/perception that he was not fulfilling his promises to me... promises to finish tasks, to fix things, to do things... he has had and still has ongoing issues with procrastination, distraction, avoidance. Before I decided to devote myself to him as his slave, it would drive me NUTZ and I was a flaming nagging bitch about it.

Now it just runs off my back... just like proverbial water and ducks... He is my master. He is who he is. He gets to be who he is. I get to accept him for who he is. He rarely, hell... he never uses the word promise. He is too smart for that. He knows he has difficulty with follow through. It bothers him a hell of a lot more than it does me.

Sometimes I will pause and look at that car, the one he "said" he would get rid of about ten years ago, the one with the weeds growing around it and shrug, a small memory of the angst and the arguments... but I don't feel disrespect. I have let go of all that.

She wrote:

Hello,

I read your reply to this discussion and I was hoping that you would be willing to talk with me. I am trying to figure out how when you "give" up control and let all those things go that bother you like the car he has not gotten rid of. Now he gets to be who he is and what about you? Do you get to be who you are? You cannot get a say in getting the things you need/want done like him getting rid of that car??

I ask because we are in a place so much of what my husband does or does not do drives me crazy!! For example he made lobster tail a WEEK ago he made melted butter for them and although I have simply left the sink alone and reminded him I cannot stand lobster the sink sits there a HUGE mess! So what do I do just clean it up myself?? That would be like having another kid.

If I stop asking him to do things and I just "let it go" will it ever get done? Do I then have to pick up double duty and do it ALL myself? I just let him leave a HUGE pile of laundry on his side of our room forever. Please let me know your thoughts and how you live with the feelings.

I answered:

A wise person once said that after forty you learn not to sweat the small stuff and after fifty you learn it is all small stuff...

First every relationship is unique. What works for me and my Master will not necessarily work for others, in fact I am very sure it will not work for others. He is not very strict about most stuff up until he suddenly goes postal about some very minor thing, like which ladle I use to dish up the soup for dinner. (Giggles... I try to keep a straight face during those moments, right up to when he bends me over the dishwasher and "spatulates" that smirk right off my face.) He has very few rules I am expected to follow, but the ones that are there better not be forgotten.

As far as having expectations for my Master... i.e. cleaning up the lobster dishes... I just don't have them. I had to learn to accept him for who and what he is... it is not my right to try and change him... and what about me??? I have made the decision that my attitude is "anything he wants, everything he wants, and I am here to serve him in any way that pleases him"... if that means double duty then it is double duty. Master does not demand I do it... but when I sit back and let it sit.. the kitchen... the laundry... he does not complain but it makes me feel bad. I want this slave relationship as much or more than he does, and when I slack off, I feel sad, lost and disconnected. So I guess that is the "what about me"... the me that needs to feel useful, pleasing, used, exploited, owned, controlled, objectified... mmm sigh... oops sorry got distracted there... back on topic.

For the longest time I wanted him to step up, take more control, force me to surrender... real ropes and whips and "breaking" fantasies. Then I had this "aha" moment... I realized that until I trusted him I could not surrender to him. Trust is a slow growing thing... but I know now that I trust him to keep me safe... I am learning to trust that he will meet enough of my "wants and needs" to keep me a happy girl for the next fifty years.

About the car... he knows I want it gone... and I know he wants it gone too... but the sweet darling is going to take his own sweet time doing it... maybe another ten years... or never. It is a small thing.

He and I had a sweet moment in the car yesterday on the way home from the grocery store... he said "It took a long time but I think I have finally tamed you." I responded, "Tamed? really, you think so?" He laughed and answered me... "Well, like a house cat is tamed, certainly not like a golden retriever."

If you have any questions... go ahead and ask away.

She fired right back:

Now don't get me wrong I desire this type of relationship as well so I am not judging. However the I do whatever he wants, my attitude is what he wants, he’s the master blah blah blah. And not blah blah blah to you but to every time I read women saying stuff like that. So only women should bend, give up, allow him to be however he wants, she gives up her voice, her wants, her desires.

I understand you are saying that your wants and desires are to be wanted, used, owned etc. But you cannot completely say you just let him be the god and you are nothing?? Where is your worth? Where is your voice? Or any woman’s voice that chooses those items. I do not want to run around and clean up after him and do his dishes and clean his side of the room or sink etc, etc. I have more than enough with three kids and the two extra I babysit.

I want to feel owned, cherished, loved of service but I also want to feel he takes pride and wants to clean up after himself to not be so messy to not leave me to do it. Why should I clean up the meal he cooked himself? It would be like if I cooked a meal and just left my stuff and never cleaned up just sitting around waiting for someone to do it and no one ever would it would rot!

I hope this makes sense I guess my real question how do you just not care when it appears so lop sided and one way only? How do you take of yourself the kids, house then all his mess also? Is he not an adult?

Again I am not judging you or trying to say this is wrong I am just trying to figure out how I can feel happy to give and not jilted, pissed off, used and like a doormat with no other purpose or worth but to serve. I have a lot of worth and I want him to take care of me also.

So I answered:

For the longest time I looked at this through the lens of gender politics... that I was the "woman" and I was not going to let the "man" control me. But in reality I like cooking and cleaning because that is what I am socialized to do... not what he expects. And as ‘blah blah blah’ as it is... I NEED HIM TO BE MY MASTER. I hate it when he does any of those things... it takes away from me. (Just today for the first time he "allowed" me the privilege of cooking his breakfast for him before he went to work. This was a huge change in his daily routine... I am sure all the guys at McDonald's will wonder if something bad happened to him.)

It does not make me nothing... it makes me exactly the person I want to be. I have a voice... he hears... he listens... I trust him to care. I trust him to decide what is best for me... that makes me HUGE and IMPORTANT and SPECIAL and LOVED... not nothing. I do work full time and I have to admit that I do not have small children (mine are all grown up... but I know how hard kids can be.)... He understands I have tired days after a hard day at work... (I work with violent disabled children and sometimes come home bruised, spit on, and disheartened... he totally coddles me then.)

Master never cooks... or cleans up at all. (Master edit: He took some umbrage at the word “never”… so in fact in all accuracy I must say “rarely or hardly ever.”) In fact he sits and plays computer games as I do the work... in many ways it makes it all the better, the casual and callous disregard as I work. It would not feel like service if it was just my turn to do it. But he always raves about the food. I think if the dishes started to rot, he would not even notice as long as he had food in front of him.

He is an adult... my Master... totally spoiled by me. For me, I need it lopsided... his way only. It would not have the same meaning for me if I tried to control it or control him. It is funny... sometimes I wish he would beat me in a different manner... more methodical... longer... perhaps not quite so intense... but I never voice that because then I would be controlling it and that would ruin it completely. I would rather have it his way than feel like it was me controlling it.

Darling I don't feel judged... I am perfectly comfortable with how things are going for me and Master. If I may... can I ask you some questions? How long have you been with your husband/Master? How long as it been power exchange... do you identify as slave? property? Do you have a written contract? Are the kids his? Did you negotiate your relationship/limits/expectations with him prior to making a commitment?

Giggles... I love the doormat comment... if he wants a doormat I am on the floor hoping against hope he would really wipe his feet on me. That would be fucking haut. I don't want equal... I want him to own me and show that ownership in his actions. He tells me he loves me a thousand times a day... he calls me beautiful... he tells me how happy he is that I am his over and over. He tells me that he is thrilled with all I do. But he can be selfish, violent, cruel, callous, capricious, controlling and a total fucking bastard... I am not sure when I love him best. I know I need both.

Perhaps a structured Master/slave relationship with limits clear and stated will work better for you. But be careful... if you try to control too much I can't help but believe it will ultimately dilute the intent. I would not feel the same trust for my Master if he allowed me to control him.

And she responded:

LOL@ the mcdonalds comment!! I am happy to hear that he loves you so well and does give you so many compliments!

We have been together for 4 years. Actually the power exchange in new since maybe Nov. with some little kink in the bedroom before that. I guess I do not identify yet as I do not know. I like sub and lil girl. We do not have a contract there lies a problem he does not want to sit down and talk in depth about it. One of the kids are his the other two previous marriage. No we did not talk about this before marriage this came into light after getting married and the baby.

So I said:

I hear about the "him not wanting to talk about it"... My Master is a doer not a talker. And he is also diabolically in love with teasing me, mindfucking me, confusing me, frustrating me. He is ten times more of a mental sadist than a physical sadist. I sometimes suspect if he really gets what I want, that is the one thing he will dangle just out of my reach, just to watch me jumping up and down. So deep, serious, heart felt conversations are frequently derailed by his devilish sense of humor.

My Master and I had been married for 18 years when I broached the subject about wanting him to take more control of me. He was resistant. He thought it would mean more work for him... I am very strong willed... the whole idea of me "submitting" to him was a little hard for him to believe. I started to go through the motions, calling him Master, biting my lip, working on trust... Slowly he started to respond to my plan. We have been in an evolving power exchange for about two years.

It has not been all roses and success... he is very stubborn and will not be steered by me. I had to give up on what I imagined it could be and accept what he decides it is going to be. Once I tried to set limits for him. I wrote a contract aimed mostly at keeping control of my own money and avoid doing dreaded yard work... YUCK... but he was enraged by my attempt to control him. And I realized it came from a lack of trust from me… that was the source of his anger. I sucked it up. I do yard work now. Funny, now that I let him have complete control of the household money (I do the bill paying but now he oversees it), he has been funneling a ton more of his paycheck to me. (Before that he was just paying his share.) We paid off the mortgage... woot!

It seems the more I surrender, the more I trust him, the more he is stepping up, the more confident he is becoming.

Have you read the book, "The Surrendered Wife"? It did not fit very well for me and my Master's dynamic but the one concept that resonated with me was trusting your husband... if you don't trust him he won't be empowered. If he is not empowered he will not feel motivated to do the right things. As I relaxed and embraced my trust I found him somehow growing and becoming even more worthy of that trust.

She responded:

“when I broached the subject about wanting him to take more control of me. He was resistant. He thought it would mean more work for him... I am very strong willed... the whole idea of me "submitting" to him was a little hard for him to believe.”

This is exactly where we are. He DOES NOT want more work and he thinks he will have to tell me tasks to do all the time. I am super strong willed and have a ton of stubborn pride.

CONGRATS on the mortgage that's awesome!!

I wonder if I just surrendered if I would find my fears washing away. And it would not be all that I am scared of. I did try this weekend to just serve him selflessly and I got pissed on and mad that he did not take care of me also.

After laughing a little I came back with:

Goodness... it took about six months for him to start believing.

Over and over I hear about this anger... angry at him for not being exactly what you want him to be. What I did for six months was focus on being the person I wanted to be... his. I pretended I had rules, had orders, had lists of tasks assigned to me. I treated him with respect long before I really felt it.

Oh, we had our moments, good ones and horrid ones, ones where I would lose it and just rant at him and he would withdraw. I would despair and talk to my M/s friends and they would remind me it is a process and it will take time.

The one thing I had to learn was he gets to be exactly who he is... he will never be my fantasy Master... the one in my imagination. Another funny story: ...just yesterday Master totally did this whole kinky sex thing with me. Generally he prefers more vanilla sex so I was a very, very happy girl. Later on that day I snuggled up to him and whispered sweet naughty appreciations for the special treat. And then, because I can be a bit of brat, I could not help but add, "...but a blind fold would have made it perfect." In a nano-second I was bent over, one arm twisted up behind me and his other hand firmly gripping a nipple. His voice was just as soft, "Pet, you will have to get used to less than perfect." The moral of that story is I have gotten used to less than perfect... I wanted him for my Master, I wanted the whole package. He is far from perfect, but there is plenty there to love, he is strong, he is controlling, he loves the hell out of me, he spoils me rotten too.

It sounds like you still have a lot of needs and expectations that are not getting met. What are you afraid of? Examine those fears, needs and expectations, they may well be reasonable... I know many of the things I wish were different about my Master are very reasonable but they are beyond my control. All I can do is pay attention to the parts of him that make me happy and love the hell out of him despite his flaws. I know he does the same for me.

I am sure your Master has a lot of positive qualities. You married him after all. And you are not a doormat.

P.S. Does your husband/Master read your posts?

So she said:

He really does not have time to read them sometimes he does. I apologized for my words. I was triggered last night and had jumbled feelings.

I wonder what is the appeal in being used, being less than human, having no voice, being property in the derogatory sense? Can you be treated like that and be healthy?
What’s the difference between property, slave and sub?

Oh god I hated that last question, but I tackled it:

I think that in reality, those things do not happen on a routine basis. In reality, Master and I would look like a normal old aging couple. He has his big chair, I sit on the couch. While that fantasy of naked, no panties, on your knees stuff is fun to think about, in reality if I am naked he will give me a "mmm, that looks nice" comment then in the second breath order me to "Put on some clothes." He certainly would not let me sit on the furniture naked. "That's just gross."

But underneath is the total awareness that he is in charge, what he says is the law. So I put on the clothes, grumbling under my breath, "it’s not gross..."

I am not dehumanized. I don't find being property derogatory. Yes, I get what you mean... those stories of nameless, automatons kept and used like pieces of meat. But that is not the daily reality of anyone I have ever spoken to. One works, runs a house, plays golf... Another spends all her time taking care of her granddaughter that lives with them and complains that they never have a chance to fuck anymore because she is too tired from babysitting. I am sure all those other people have similar stories. And the few that may actually live that reality??? Well... all I can do is give them the acceptance for their choices that I hope to receive from them.

The age old question... what is the difference?... the answer is endlessly varied. They are labels that mean one thing to one person and completely different to another. I have seen so many heated arguments.

Generally property has given all power to the Owner. Generally property has no control, no safe words, and many of them ascribe to the belief/fact that they cannot leave. Sometimes the term 'consensual nonconsent' has been used, meaning that the property has agreed ahead of time to anything, even if later they change their mind.

Slave is a very loose term. Many people take offense saying that for us kinky people to throw the word around is unfair to the people who historically have been and currently are enslaved against their will. For me the words property and slave are sort of synonymous.

Sub is short for someone who is submissive or has chosen to submit. That may mean in a time limited, situation limited sense, i.e. in the bedroom, on this date, or with this particular person. Generally there are some negotiated limits and safe words.

I like the concept of property. Master is very clear that I cannot leave. I like him saying that (whether he could really stop me or not). I don't really have a safe word. Last time I tried to yell "safe word" at him he laughed and told me I was doing just fine. (but he ease up a bit... sweet Master that he is)...

You will find your own labels and your own comfortable place.

Persistent girl that she is she keeps at it:

OK let’s just say for sake of conversation you have chosen your owner and things are good, he is making good choices for you. What happens if he makes a bad choice for you? What happens if you want to leave? You say you cannot leave. What if it is no longer a good situation?

Oh now I get it… after being pounded over the head with a two by four, I finally got it… Safety police…. So I answer:

Well... I did give him a good eighteen year long looking over first... I was well aware of what I was getting into.

As I just read your question out loud, Master said "you have to learn to trust" but I realize you are thinking of those mythical situations where the Owner suddenly flips out and wants to amputate your limbs or do your children. Of course if Master flipped out, had a stroke what ever... he would not be the same person I made my promises to. And I would gently have him committed or arrested. I am not crazy... I want all my arms and legs attached, thank you.

Other things, like move, quit my job, etc... those are his right. I would ask why, I would whine and maybe even complain but in the end I would trust his commitment to my safety and well being.

As far as not leaving, I have made a commitment to not leave him as he is now. It was easy to do... we did not have a very happy marriage. I left at least ten times, actually divorced his ass once and I kept coming back. I eventually realized the "can't leave" came from inside me, not so much from him. But I must admit I love to hear him say it. How the "can't leave" thing works for others that is up to them. In reality, there are no locks on the door, no GPS unit embedded inside my body, no chains... I have a car and a job... I am not a prisoner of anything beyond my own convictions.

I just read this to him and he said "and you still can't leave"... he says the sweetest things.

Finally satisfied she said:

Great way to answer that! Thanks! And thank him for his input as well :)