Master wasn’t nearly as amused by that last post as I was.
Even if he did recognize the nugget of truth that permeated my friend’s situation, he still didn’t think it was funny. What can I say? He’s humorless, obviously.
At any rate, my friend did her chores because… well for lots of reason. Because she didn’t think the fall out was worth it. Because she knows her role is to obey regardless of what he’s doing. Because she was hoping to get to go somewhere and didn’t want that to be the reason he said no (she didn’t get to go anyway. boo!) Because manipulation is not really her style. Because forcing his hand doesn’t have the same satisfaction.
So, just because.
But…. bah humbug, you know?
I just don’t get some of it, though. I don’t need a list to help me keep the house clean. If it’s going to be up to me to clean the house, then let me do it my way, to my standards, on my schedule.
If it’s going to be cleaned to his standards on his schedule and his way, then enforce that. If he doesn’t care enough to see if I’m following his schedule then why make the schedule?
What am I missing here? I don’t even know.
And why do I buck so much? Jesus. I exhaust even myself. I am simply not happy giving in without a struggle of some sort. I hate hate HATE thinking I have an option so why do I keep fighting to find one? Ugh. I’d have kicked myself to the curb a long damn time ago. I’m too much WORK.
But then I don’t know why he gives me wiggle room, lol.
There was a thread on Fet the other day, loosely about reinforcing control but threads on Fet never stay on topic because first we have to argue the terminology, then we have to rush around declaring ourselves above the need for [whatever the topic is] because god forbid we indicate in any way whatsoever that we expect our doms to do ANYTHING.
I think I have more expectations than the average bear. :)
Anyway, so the thread was talking about how requests are worded, as in, commanding or asking or saying please and thank you, blah blah blah…
Leaving out his *choice* to talk to me however he wants to, I’m not going to pretend that I don’t have a preference for the phrasing or the tone he uses when he does talk to me. Does he always order me around like a Billy Bad Ass? Not at all. Do I obey either way? Yes. But does one way make me feel differently than another? You betcha.
My response in the thread was to say “if I wanted to be spoken to or treated like a vanilla wife, I’d have stayed with a vanilla man. I like being told what to do, and not because I’ve warped his request into an order. Words matter, tone matters, looks matter, actions matter. I get weary of having to search out the nuances of M/s. I like blatant, I like tangible, I like real.”
Which isn’t to say that it can’t be “real M/s” if he’s the politest motherfucker on the planet. It is simply to say that FOR ME, those little things matter.
In thinking over that particular topic, how he talks to me, I had to admit to myself that he mostly always orders me rather than requests things.
Later on in the same thread, some other examples were given on how to highlight control, sort of random acts of dominance. Some of the examples given were these:
a) right in the middle of a real laughfest, just stop dead, give her the eye and say “on your knees”.
b) Like, next time you’re walking through the house and she’s vacuuming or whatever, just bend her over the back of the couch, fuck the hell outta her (WITHOUT ALLOWING HER AN ORGASM), push her onto the floor and go on about your business like it never happened.
c) Like, every so often when she asks to use the restroom, say no.
And I had to admit that he does all of those, too.
So then I’m left here thinking, well shit, woman. What the fuck is it that you’re complaining about?
And now.. now I don’t know anymore.
Am I flitting about freely, leaving the house, shopping, spending money, making plans, seeing friends, doing whatever I want?
Do I still have to ask permission for everything? From eating to bathroom to showering to sleeping to walking out the door to get the mail?
During my so-called rebellion of the last few days (wherein I didn’t actually do any rebelling but just whined about it) I had the thought that I’d just turn my phone off for a day.
Because that would be some serious rebelling, y’all.
The thing about the phone is that I *know* there is no wiggle room given to me about it. None. Zip. Zero. If I miss a call and I haven’t previously texted him something like “I’m going into my appointment now so I won’t be answering the phone for a few minutes” or whatever similar reason I have, then it is a BIG DEAL. I take the phone into the bathroom with me. I take the phone on my walks with the dog. I take the phone from room to room. I text him if I’m putting it on the charger because it’s dying and I’m going to be in another room doing chores. I text him when I’m getting in the shower because I can’t answer it when I’m wet. I text him if I’m going to sleep and he isn’t home. I let him know ANY reason I might have for possibly missing a call or text because if I don’t and I DO miss one, even if I later say “Sorry Master, I was sleeping” I’ll get busted for not telling him first AND for missing the call.
No wiggle room. No options.
So when I had that fleeting thought of rebelling by way of phone, I immediately (IMMEDIATELY) knew I would never. Not going there.
Just like I no longer try going to the bathroom without asking. I would never cut or change my hair without permission. I would never make plans for us without asking. I wouldn’t say “Suck it yourself” or refuse to spread my legs or not serve him his plate or not do his laundry or not make coffee or tell him no when given order
because there is no wiggle room.
On so many things.
Where do I come away from all of this feeling like I’m flapping in the breeze? That he’s dropped the leash?
Because he’s not beating me enough. He’s not playing Santa and checking the list twice, lol.
I’m really trying to figure myself out here.
Has it just become so routine that I’m just not feeling it so I need it to be ramped up and ramped up.. and if that’s the case, where would that stop?
Needy, needy bitch. Oy.