J is for Juxtaposed.
I’ve kind of been going round and round with the word juxtaposed and whether or not it’s the correct word for what I’m trying to convey. I understand what juxtaposed means (good/evil, dark/light, etc.), so if it doesn’t work for this entry then I’ll just be wrong. :)
I’m thinking of slave/wife. The differences and similarities, and if there are all that many.
It’s a somewhat common topic that crops up on Fet. What makes a person a slave when the slave is in a traditional married or committed relationship. It seems like the answer gets whittled down to consent and intent. Because there aren’t any specific attributes or actions that set one aside from ‘married’ to ‘master and slave’. Other than “because we said so”.
In some M/s relationships, it’s easy to highlight the differences. Particularly in relationships where the couple aren’t in love, aren’t romantic. A relationship that is entirely, perhaps, obedience based, or service based. They don’t do traditional “couple” things together. Maybe they don’t live together, or sleep together, or shop/eat/pay bills together. Maybe they are each in separate romantic relationships with other people.
I feel like the waters get muddied when Master and slave are also husband and wife. There’s too much crossover.
At least, in my relationship I feel like the waters got muddied.
In a typical day, I don’t FEEL like a slave unless I purposely look for slave things. But I don’t like that. I don’t like having to LOOK for things.
Trust me, it’s occurred to me that I’m far too high maintenance for my own good. :)
But if I believe that if I stripped off the labels of Master and slave and if I believe that absolutely nothing about my day to day life would be different, then what, exactly, makes me a slave?
Because I said so? Because I choose that label from the drop down box?
Because he tells me I am even if he is choosing not to exercise any of the authority he says he has? And does he really have it if he doesn’t use it?
On the flip side, though, is the possibility that I’ve reached a state of obliviousness – or apathy. I’m so immersed in my everyday existence that I’ve stopped noticing the tools he’s used or is using, or that I’m using, that do, in fact, highlight the difference between slave and wife.
A wife in a traditional, vanilla marriage probably doesn’t ask for permission to use the bathroom, nor would she probably just hold it indefinitely if her husband said ‘not right now’ just for shits and giggles.
She probably reserves the right to not take it up the ass if she didn’t want to, or to change her mind if it’s hurting when she previously thought maybe she was in the mood for some anal sex.
And whether or not a vanilla wife has to cook and clean because these things need done anyway, I imagine there’s a little more freedom to procrastinate or make her own cleaning schedule.
Also, probably, she doesn’t have to stand still for painful nipple pinching, ass slapping, or getting popped in the mouth, at all, ever, even if it only happens once in awhile (or every day. Or never. Like.. she would never have to.)
She’d have choices, is my point I guess.
And though it might feel, to me, like I have choices or that I’m making choices all day long, if I open my eyes to the juxtaposition of slave/wife, my “choices” are not really choices at all.
I can choose to obey or I can choose to be forced to obey. But either way, I’ll be taking it up the ass no matter how much I cry that it hurts, I’ll be getting slapped if he wants to, and I’ll lift my face up and get popped in the mouth until my lips bleed if he feels it’s warranted.
What will I do about it? Nothing.
A long, long time ago, I had asked the question what happens when things like caning or whipping aren’t enough anymore; does it just keep ramping up and up into a need, on either side, to start breaking arms?
And while that me was a young, naive, new slave and my thoughts hadn’t progressed too far beyond pain play (which was my focus and obsession then) I feel like I’ve reached that same analogy.
In my everyday life, do I need my arm broken to feel like a slave instead of a wife? And what, exactly, is the response to that?