Chapter Three

“WTF?”

Several years ago, I was reading what I thought to be a very well-written book about the joys of female submission. The author struck me as a woman who definitely knew what she was talking about, and I got that wonderful stirring in my belly that I always get when someone aptly describes submission realistically and beautifully. I saw a kindred spirit in her. No task was too small, and she went into great detail about all the ways she served her man: cooking, shopping, cleaning, laundry, changing his sheets, etc. I think there was maybe some yummy sexual service thrown in there too, but I really can’t remember. About two-thirds of the way through the book, she revealed that she is only in submission/service for one week out of the year. What the…? One week? She wrote a book based on that? She submits to and serves a man one fucking week out of the entire year? To that I say, “Well, whoop-ti-fuckin’do!” There are about a thousand things I could do for one week out of the year. And then I guess I could even write a book about it. But I have to hand it to her for having the writing skills to turn one week into an entire manuscript. And I guess I have to hand it to her, too, for being honest about that little tidbit which was buried somewhere on page, like, 201. Had I been her editor, I may have red-lined that damning little piece of information. You know, there is a thing called credibility.

Think about this carefully. Being under someone’s control and care sounds wonderfully warm, safe and secure, and it truly can be the most wonderful feeling. But are you really prepared for this? Can you see yourself serving someone day in, day out, for possibly the rest of your life? Three hundred sixty-five days a year. That’s a lot of hours. And he’s not always going to be looking his best, smelling his best, or acting his best like you and I are. He’s going to make some baaaaaaaaad decisions here and there, and you’re going to follow him right down those paths of destruction, right? Yet I can’t tell you how many times I was positive my guy was dead wrong, and then his decision worked out beautifully for us. I often ask his opinion on things he basically knows nothing about, simply because his intuition is so good. And then there are those “nipple-piercing-type” times you just have to live with. Sigh. Sometimes you have to let the chips fall where they may, and the interesting thing is that a lot of times it turns out there were no chips to fear in the first place. My ego often tells me I know without a doubt where his “terrible” decision will lead us, but I turn out to be…um….wrong.

What if you’re shopping with your Dom when you find the coolest pair of jeans EVER, and he decides, for whatever reason, you can’t buy them? Are you ready to accept and obey? Would you go behind his back and buy them a few days later? You know, you could sneak down and buy them, then pull them out of the back of your closet a few months from now. Are you okay with doing that?

What if he decides you two are spending Christmas this year with his family? “But we’ve always spent Christmas with my family!” you want to yell (or whine). And you two will be eating Mexican food for lunch this Saturday; you won’t be going to your favorite Chinese place. You no longer have permission to have short hair. You have a list of daily chores to perform; your time is no longer your own. You’re only allowed one hour of internet time a day. It’s now your job to pick up dog poop in the yard every day. You do the shopping, you do the cooking, you do the laundry. No whining, no complaining, no arguing. And unless you’re deathly ill and/or have blood coming out of your eyes, you will never refuse him sex. Ever. He can wake you at 3:00 AM each and every morning if he wishes and demand that you service him. What if he now controls when you get to have an orgasm? Is that really going to be okay with you? Oh, and you can’t take care of that business for yourself when he’s at work either. Keep your hands off your girly parts. By the way, he wants to be at the gym by 6:30, so you’ll be getting up with him at 5:00 AM on weekdays to make his breakfast and pack his lunch. He decides when you will get a new car. He decides when the two of you will go to bed every night. And no, you are no longer allowed to drink six cokes a day. You will serve his meals to him on a tray in front of the television set on Sundays so he won’t miss his football games. It’s your job to purchase Christmas gifts for his family. You’ll need to wrap and ship them, too. He doesn’t allow you to talk on the phone while you drive. Stop reading those kinds of books, he says. Your favorite pair of pajama pants has a hole in them. He tells you to throw them out, now. No more alcohol during the week, only the weekends. Sunday morning, he may require you to pull weeds for two hours in the garden. You will do this after making a big breakfast of blueberry pancakes, as you will now do every Sunday. It’s his favorite breakfast, after all. You’re required to do one hour of exercise every single day.

Does any of this sound silly? Well, Houston, then we have a problem. Remember, submission is about him. I’m not saying for one second that you receive no benefit from this level of service. In fact, I often find myself going through the entire day at a low level of sexual arousal because having a Master and being able to serve and please Him in this way quite often simply makes me hot.

But let’s talk about yesterday. I was awakened at 5:00 AM for sex. I made a huge breakfast of blueberry pancakes. I’m terribly behind on laundry, and so was asked to get with it. Our dishwasher is broken, so I had to tackle piled-up dishes in the sink. The dogs needed to be fed, and the parrot cage paper had to be changed. I had to pick up dog poop in the yard. There’s no time to sit with him on the front patio as he smokes a cigar. I forgot to clean out the cat litter boxes and fill their bowls. The bee hives need checking. I suit up and go feed them. Laundry has to be moved to the dryer. I need to prepare some things for lunch, because He’ll be getting hungry again fairly soon. I have to simmer the meatballs in the marinara sauce, because these are now his favorite lunches on Sundays. There are more dishes in the sink now. Dang! A dog just pooped on the rug! I’m told I will be shampooing that rug the following day. I grab a shower. My prescriptions have to be called in. I need to fill out a form for the Department of Motor Vehicles. Some emails came in from my brother, so I read them and answer them. Get back to laundry. By now there are three clean piles in the laundry room which need to be folded and put away. There’s no water in the cat’s water dish. I take care of it. The dogs need to be moved around; I can’t supervise them right now. I sit on the couch and have a beer for a few minutes. There’s a wasp nest by the garage that needs to be sprayed. I need to wash more dishes or I’ll never catch up. I see that I forgot to make the bed. I sift through some documents I’m using for a writing project, but have to put them aside for now. Too much to do. I correspond a bit on a cool website I recently discovered. I grab another beer and sit with Him on the couch. He’d like some chocolate cake now. I bring it and wait for him to finish. He’d like more, please. I bring it. I get all the dishes washed, except for the silverware, which remains piled in the sink. The stale bread and mushy tomatoes are taken out to the garden and thrown over the fence for the deer. I have to spend some quality time with the foster cats and make sure they have fresh water. There’s more laundry to fold. It’s almost time for dinner, so I start the cornbread. The dogs need to be fed. I do so, then microwave the stew. The dog bowls need to be picked up and washed out. He’s eating in front of the TV again due to football, so I bring his tray, drink and utensils to him. Dinner is served. I wash more dishes and wipe down all the counters. The coffee maker is set up for the following morning. Laundry is finally done for the week. We get in bed and read for an hour or so. The dogs need to be taken out one more time before bed, though, and it’s my job to make sure they end up in their respective sleeping places. Lights out at 9:00, because he said so.

Why can’t I fall asleep?

So do you think I felt a low level of sexual arousal yesterday? Not on your life.

My chores today are dusting, vacuuming, shampooing the rug and getting all the garbage ready to be taken down to the street for pick-up tomorrow morning. This is, of course, in addition to all the usual tasks required in keeping a house and caring for all of our animals. I dealt with the dishwasher manufacturer for the third time to get some damned someone in the damned universe to please repair the damned thing. No damned luck. I made an eye doctor appointment for myself, and filled out an insurance form for Him. I have yet to make the bed, set up the coffee maker, clean the bird cage, shower, mail some financial documents, do dishes, shampoo the TV room rug, or any of the other chores on my daily schedule. I’m also supposed to make a pot of spaghetti sauce, then shower, dress for him, do my hair and make-up the way he wants it, and be ready to please him sexually when he comes home.

I don’t feel like it. As I type this, I want to goof off much more on the computer, ignore the dishes in the sink, and drink another beer or two. In fact, I just whined to him on the phone that he keeps piling on more and more responsibilities today, and the list of assignments is getting longer as the day gets shorter. His response? “I want all your chores finished before I come home, so I guess you’ll need to get right to work, won’t you?” And just so you’ll know, I did finish everything he requested of me.

I imagine some of you are saying this system just isn’t fair. I’m being used, right? He’s taking advantage of me. What he has found in me is a glorified… um…slave? Is that the word you were looking for? S-L-A-V-E? And maybe not even such a glorified one at that. But he even gets sexual privileges with my body! What the hell? And an intelligent, well-educated woman in this day and age should never give of herself in this way to a man. Jeez…it’s not like I’m being paid for my services. What about MY freedom of choice? Ego often says I must have it. Ego often says I must preserve the ability to satisfy all of my wants.

Many may wait on their knees for hours at their Master’s feet, hoping he will order them to serve a glass of iced tea. I can’t say these situations don’t exist, but this certainly wouldn’t fly in our house, I can sure as hell assure you of that. This is yet another way in which the internet, in my opinion, often does us a disservice, although I think things are finally based more on reality —certainly as more of us in the lifestyle seek wisdom and guidance, and share our experiences and struggles with others through websites and blogs. If I had some sort of part-time submission agreement with Him, then I could see it. But He works full-time, and I am in charge of the house, grocery shopping, bill paying, feeding and care of the animals, dusting, vacuuming, cooking, dishes, finances, laundry, gardening and home maintenance. And he likes it when I keep up with my writing. I also know his preferences regarding my personal care and hygiene, and how I am to present myself to him at certain times of the day. (More on this later). So I confess to you that anyone who claims to have the time to do nothing but wait for a command from their Master really confuses me, yet these situations do exist, and I hope all parties find fulfillment in their dynamic. I can unequivocally say that in our situation, my holding a certain position on the carpet for hours, waiting for a request while he watches television or reads a book isn’t going to fly for us. It’s just not our thing. If it works for you, then go for it. I know Him very well now, though, and I take pleasure in anticipating his needs, as well as obeying direct orders from him. And there may come a day when holding a position on the carpet for hours while he watches television or reads a book may be exactly what he requires of me. I know it pleases him more when I anticipate his needs instead of requiring him to always ask for something or issue an order. Again, that’s just us. As you might have noticed, there’s a truckload of stuff to be done around our house at any given time of day.

One of his greatest joys is watching football on Sunday, and I mean ALL DAY on Sunday. Cool. So I’ve come to know when he probably wants a snack, and I know his favorites by now. Late in the afternoon, if a game is running overtime and he’ll miss something by coming to the table, I know he prefers to eat dinner on a tray in front of the television. It’s yet another preference of his, and it is not my place to tell him it ain’t gonna happen, although I would rather he eat dinner at the kitchen table with me.

Without asking Him, I have permission to do anything and everything that will enhance our lives, care for our pets, keep a clean and safe home, maintain our financial well-being, and guard our health and safety. If your Dom wants to be the one to control the minutia, such as granting or not granting permission for you to use the bathroom, then go for it. And many Doms insist on no closed bathroom doors as part of the “you will have no secrets from me” rule, but when something I ate comes out smelling like burning tires, I think it’s a secret best kept. Look, I don’t need to know the details of what’s going on when Master shuts his bathroom door, and I’m truly grateful that I’m given complete privacy in this regard. I imagine some people believe this sort of “sharing” represents a closeness of some type, as in “let’s cross into previously uncharted territory and show that we can be entirely open with one another”, but it would never occur to me to expose my Master to this sort of…ahem…intimacy. And I feel all the more ladylike because of it. I don’t know about you, but bathroom noises and smells emanating from others are pretty much a turn-off for me. Not only is it too much information, it’s not information I need in any way, shape or form.

This reminds me of an interesting comment from a co-worker. I was telling her about a friend of mine who has been in many relationships with both males and females, but had at that point in life never married. My coworker asked, “Does she go to the bathroom in front of her lovers?” I said yes, as I knew it to be true from a story she’d once told me about a woman she was dating. My coworker said that’s why my friend wasn’t getting marriage proposals. I find that interesting. I never went to the bathroom in front of my ex-husband, or any boyfriends I’d had. I have not gone to the bathroom in front of my Master even once in the ten years we’ve been together. Yep, ten years.

But back to what I was saying before I launched into my “bathroom chat” with you. Many Masters don’t allow their subs or slaves to sit on furniture. The Master may insist on choosing the sub’s clothing. Again, it’s just not for us. My Master works full time, and he appreciates that I can handle all the details of managing a home and countless other details of our lives while he works. I would drive him insane if I had to constantly ask his permission, and I believe one of the best ways I serve him is to take the initiative to help his personal life run like a well-oiled machine.

I also believe I am a much better companion, sub and wife when I can talk intelligently about current events, maybe recall a funny news story for him at dinner, and tell him about a great or not so great book I’m reading. If I did nothing but chores and never worked on my personal development, I just don’t think he would find me all that interesting. And it goes both ways. If he did nothing but go to work, then come home and watch TV during every spare hour, I wouldn’t find his company all that stimulating either.

I recently read of a slave whose Master asked him to choose which movie they were going to watch. The slave chose one of the two movies, then changed his mind. He seemed to read on his Master’s face that it was not a “correct” decision. So, he said he would rather watch the other movie, thinking that’s what his Master really wanted to watch in the first place. He finally got so confused about what he thought he wanted and what he thought his Master wanted, he couldn’t make a decision.

I mention this because, even though I am under His umbrella, I am asked my opinion about the majority of decisions we have to make. And there are many things He simply doesn’t want to get involved with. I believe many subs turn over the finances to their Doms, but I not only handle the finances, I’m responsible for our income taxes. I’m organized and I’m good with numbers, so why wouldn’t I handle this for us? Again, this is just how we handle things. It’s one more way I can serve Him. If it’s different for you, that’s great, and I always say if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.