Qualities of an Owner

Serving a Dominant/Master requires a certain amount of trust, honesty and consent from each of us. Each of us must have qualities within our personalities that allow us to comfortably fulfill our respective roles. The qualities I have found in my Sir are loyalty, objectivity, and consistency.

Loyalties above all are critical. I can love you to the end of the Earth and back; but if we’re not loyal to the other then we’re wasting time. Loyalty takes many different forms, I think. I am loyal to Him in some of my expectations; letting Him know when I leave a location and arrive at the next, calling as soon as I miss His call, etc. His loyalty to me is demonstrated in His time and attention to/with me. In short, loyalty is knowing that I am the utmost priority whenever possible.

Objectivity is also critical. Though He rules with a firm hand, I am a brat and will push back whenever the mood strikes. However, when I do He takes my thoughts and feelings into consideration before making a final decision. I have to trust that has knowledge, wisdom, and strength will make the right decision for us. I appreciate the fact that He listens to me fairly, hears and understands my perspective before moving forward.

Consistency is something I completely lack. I am as flighty as a bumblebee in a wind storm. I cannot pay attention to save my life, I get grandiose ideas in the flash of a second, I cannot remember anything, and I’m easily distracted. Thankfully, He is none of those things. I know someone women swoon with “he’s my rock”; I can’t say He’s my rock…that has some connotations of ignorance, but I can say He is my anchor. When I’m all over the map with a thought or idea, or I’ve changed my mind about a subject for the 15th time in the last hour He is standing firm waiting for me.

All of these qualities are what allow me to serve Him as selflessly as I can. Some would think that an owner has to mean and controlling, angry, resentful, or even hateful to women to win a submissive over in servitude. However, the complete opposite is true, give me just a little of your time and attention, be loyal to me always, listen to me, and keep me grounded through consistency and I’ll walk to the moon and back for you.

Overcoming Limits

Limits are an important factor in our dynamic relationship, for both parties. Sir has things that He will and will not do, things He will and will not tolerate. As do I, as the submissive. Think about it as contract negotiations when developing the relationship, or an interview.

Sir teases me often that my limits keep expanding as our relationship and lifestyle continue. He’ll suggest something and I indicate that I would rather not do such activity (I am not permitted to say no, as it irks Sir quite a bit). He then teases me and tells me that I used to tell him that I had very few limits.

So it may seem that I’m adding limits, such as no electricity (with the exception of a TENS or something similar) or no urethral sounding (too afraid of a bladder or even a kidney infection); I have potentially overcome or released certain limits. I can easily name fears I’ve overcome; as my confidence and self-esteem has grown tremendously I’ve lost a lot of modesty when it comes to the clothes I wear out. I’ve also lost the fear of the theater. I can walk in with my head held high, chat with others and do what needs to be done without fear of repercussions.

And with much thought and reflection, the only limit that may have been released was that of permanent marks or scars. For His birthday last year I surprised Him with an ownership tattoo on my right hip. Other limits have remained intact and yes, I have added others. The additional limits have been added because of some of my naïveté, not due to a lack of trust in Sir. I think limits are fluid in a relationship. I do not believe they should be carved in stone and never addressed or readdressed as the dynamic grows and develops.

Assets Offered

Sir asked me to write this week about my greatest asset I could offer Him. I immediately thought “Oh, my body is the greatest asset I could offer Him.” Then I came to realize that isn’t my greatest asset, anyone could provide their body for Him to use. Several other ideas occurred to me: my time, my service, my love, and so on. The greatest assets I have that I can offer Him, every day, is my loyalty and respect.

From the beginning of this D/s relationship loyalty and respect have been of the utmost importance to Him. I believe that most humans crave some level of loyalty toward each other, especially those that we are closest to in a relationship. He has to know, as do I, no matter what, when, where, or how I’ve got him unconditionally. Loyalty is either there or it isn’t. And if loyalty is questionable then the entire relationship may be questionable too.

Most people believe that respect is earned. I think that because of my military background, respect is freely given until like trust you break it. I have a phenomenal amount of respect for Sir for that He is and all that He does. He is an amazing man, father, dad, future husband, executive, leader, etc., and because of all of those things, respect is given abundantly. I have to offer Him my respect daily because if I don’t that begins to change our dynamic.

While all the other assets are valuable ones that we both treasure; time, touch, intimacy, impact play, dates, dinner, family days, the lack of loyalty and respect will destroy all of those other things rapidly.

A Fantasy Only a Girl Could Love (maybe a Deviant too)

The rain is beautiful; softly murmuring against the tin roof of the remote little cottage nestled snuggly on the cusp of the beach and the lushness of the forest. The girl settles deeper into her warm, comfortable chair with her current murder/mystery novel, her lovable bulldog, George; and a lovely cup of warm chamomile tea. The cottage is normally quiet with few visitors; the only noises are the rushing of the waves onto the shore and the rustling of branches when the wind swoops through them. As she began turning back to the page in her novel that she was reading, the strange noise crept to her ears. At first, she assumed it was the cat padding around the upstairs study. The next time the sound came, it was more definitive; certainly not the cat upstairs playing with some random piece of dust. No, this was a solid thud coming from the back porch. Almost like someone had dropped something.

Maybe something fell over, a plant stand perhaps, with the last gust of wind, she thought to herself. Not wanting to leave her peace and comfort, but wanting to put her mind at ease, she gently nudged George to the side and tiptoed to the back door. As she approached the door, the thud came again, louder this time. The girl let out a nervous little shriek and grabbed onto the kitchen counter to steady herself.

After a few moments of catching her breath and allowing her racing pulse to creep back down to normal, she caught a glimpse of something that caused her blood to run cold. Large muddy footprints coming up the back steps and across the little covered porch. Repressing another shriek of fear, she eased towards the back door to ensure it was locked.

A white hot flash of light then searing pain settled into her head as the back door was kicked in by those large muddy boots, smashing the side of her head and face. Before she could regain her vision, he grabbed a handful of her long, auburn curls and threw her across the kitchen floor. As he was closing the kitchen door, and locking it, she heard him mumbling something about being a fucking tease wearing nothing but a bikini bottom while out on the beach.

She began to plead with the large hulking figure of a man not to hurt her and he quickly informed her it was too late for that. She could plead all she wanted he said to her, in fact, he quite liked it; it turned him on and he was going to make sure the bitch knew it.

The girl tried to crawl toward the living room and reach her phone to summon help, but he was on her more quickly than she could have predicted. Dragging her up by the hair, he shoved her onto the kitchen counter, his massive arm across of the back of her neck. He told her that this is how whores are treated and she should enjoy it. He was only there to take what she had advertised so frequently on the beach.

With that massive arm continuously shoving down on the back of her neck, he felt his other hand groping her ass. He shoved her bare feet apart with his foot and pinned her knee to the cabinet with his. With one quick motion he ripped of her lacy thong and shoved it in her mouth. He told her to go ahead, scream and fight, it makes it all the more fun for him. Her short little sundress was wrenched up to her waist, fully exposing her ass and cunt to him. She began to cry because she knew what was coming. The girl didn’t know what to do, how could this be happening. The giant man shoved his hand deep in her cunt, forcing her hips against the counter. She grunted with the brutality of it. He removed his hand and took a deep breath as he smelled her juices. He then shoved it back into her, more fingers this time, trying to shove his whole hand into that voluptuous little cunt. He laughed at how the girl may not have wanted this, but her body betrayed her as her cunt became wetter with each deepening push.

Her grunts and groans only seemed to elicit a greater response from him, but she couldn’t help crying out against the violation and the pain. He finally took one last shove into her, forcing his entire hand into her cunt up to his wrist. She screamed around the lacy thong still in her mouth as the pain and fullness shot through her. The man only laughed and told her what a good little bitch she was. She couldn’t take anymore. He had to stop. The girl put both hands on the edge of the counter and attempted to push him off of her, but to no avail. This only angered him more. Taking his hand out of her, he snatched her by the hair turned her around and slapped her hard across the face. She saw stars and tasted blood as her lip split open.

He told her he knew she liked it rough and he would gladly accommodate her wants. He grabbed her by the throat and pushed her down to her knees. Holding her by her hair, he pushed down his beach shorts exposing his large throbbing cock and cum filled balls. She tried to turn her face away, but he had such a tight hold on her hair she couldn’t move. He began pushing her head forward onto his cock, but she refused to open her mouth. Again came the heavy handed slap across the face, this time she was sure she would have a black eye and busted blood vessels. He tried again to put his cock in her mouth as she tried to wrench herself free. Another heavy smack across the face brought a scream to her lips. This time he pinched her nose close until she could no longer hold her breath. As soon as she gasped for air he shoved the entire shaft of his cock into her mouth. He let go of her nose and used both hands to bury her face into him. She couldn’t breathe! She was certain he was going to suffocate her. His dick was so far down her throat she began to choke and gag. Spit oozed out her mouth, her nose was runny from crying and tears continually streamed down her face. However, the brute never felt sorry for her; it seemed he liked it all the more. He continually shoved her down on his cock, only letting her up momentarily so she could gasp for air.

After what seemed like a profoundly long time to the girl, the man got bored with the game and decided to humiliate her even more. Again with unanticipated speed and agility the man yanked her down onto the floor face first. Stepping out of his beach shorts, he straddled her from behind, never letting go of her hair. He whispered into her ear that she had been such a good whore that he couldn’t wait to feel her slutty little cunt wrapped around him. All she could do was whimper. She had given up on trying to stop him and had resolved to let him just do what he willed with her.

Letting go of her hair, he grabbed her full hips with both hand. Digging his fingers into her ample flesh, he pulled her hips up, spreading her cunt open wide. With one swift motion, he pushed his cock into her and pulled her back onto him. A moan of pleasure escaped her lips and he reminded her what a good girl she was. Within moments they had seemed to find a rhythm with each other. He pounded her cunt with every bit of force he had in his body and she responded in kind pushing back into him as hard as she could. Minutes later her body tensed as the waves of orgasm rolled through her. Feeling her cunt spasm around his cock, he gave into his own orgasm filling her with hot, sticky cum.

Completely letting go of the girl, she collapsed, exhausted on the floor. He rested back on his haunches, breathing deeply. Finally, standing up, he stepped over her, pulled his beach shorts back on and headed for the back door. Before he stepped out he turned to look at the beautiful mess of a woman he left laying on the kitchen floor. He reminded her that he was watching and he may be back.

It’s My Party

Close to the end of February, I’m having a very special party hosted by Sir. Not a dinner party with cocktails, hors d’oeuvres, salads, blah, blah, blah. Nope, this little gathering of ours has a much more sinister note to it. Sir is hosting my first gangbang, and I’m a bit apprehensive.

This event has been on His radar since we met. It has been something He has wanted for me for a little while now. I’m curious to see how much I can handle and increase my numbers. My last party had a small turn out, only five. This time we are looking for ten to fifteen. Woo Hoo. To date, I have six confirmed, two maybes, and one definitive no. I may consider more invitations this week, depending on pending responses.

My apprehension comes from the usual place of not ever wanting to disappoint Sir. I hold myself to a fairly high standard when it comes to my performances for Him, higher than He holds me. I always want to be as close to perfect as possible regardless of what I’m doing. I would be devastated if I had to yellow or safe word. The embarrassment that would come from that would be hard to get through.

I’m not sure what to expect; however, when the play collar goes on and I take a few deep breaths and He whispers what a good girl His angel is, there isn’t much I can’t accomplish. I do believe it will be rough and aggressive; but, I’m not sure how much kink is going into it either. Since everyone invited is from a particular website of like minded people, I’m sure there will be a little something extra.

And I’m assuming if all goes well there will be more parties like this upcoming one and more friends to be made.

Him

There have been lots of “hims” in my life. More than I can count (I think I stopped counting shortly after high school). There have been a wide variety of “hims”: the Bolivian tennis player, the Navy Seal, the diamond dealer, the co worker, the random guy in the bar, and countless others. But there has never been anyone like Him.

Our initial contact was through an online dating site (due to our age and chosen career paths, we don’t have many options to choose from). And after our first date, we seemed continually drawn to each other. He met the basic requirements: He had all of His teeth, a steady job, His own vehicle, and didn’t live with His mother (that’s another story for another day).

After meeting those basic requirements, came the best parts of Him. His intelligence is readily apparent in most conversations. He is easy to talk to and can carry on a great conversation for an extended amount of time that does not include talking about the weather or His truck. His physical presence is something else to be reckoned with. Not overtly stand out in a crowd kinda guy, but when He walks into a room His presence is known. Ruggedly handsome good looks, with a deep voice draws you in even deeper and demonstrates His command and control of a situation. His sense of humor takes a moment to grasp. Sometimes it’s a little difficult to grasp if He is teasing or get the gist of His dry off-color humor.

Once you get past all of that there’s the deeper side that only I get to see. The side that worries about me, has concerns for our children, and works to be a great boss and employee. There is the side that is always lost in introspective thought about what kind of person He is and how He can be better. And He is always questioning why and how things are the way they are.

If a girl could draw up a true wish list of what they wanted their boyfriend/husband/partner to be, it wouldn’t look like this one. Most girls are too superficial, “he needs to be good looking, funny, and make a lot of money.” I never planned to meet Him, I never planned to fall head over heels in love with Him, I never planned to be His submissive, I never planned to be His wife; but I could never imagine a day without His perfect presence.

Fun & Games

Not every aspect of the Dominant/submissive lifestyle is all doom and gloom, procedures and protocols, rules and expectations. It is quite a bit of fun too and more often than not we find ourselves laughing…mostly at each other (which Sir handles very well).

There was one occasion at home during an impact play session, something struck me as funny (and I’m sure I had a little bit to drink this night too) and I started giggling. Sir was trying His very best to get me to cooperate; but the more He tried the funnier I found it and the harder I laughed. At some point I turned around and opened my eyes and asked Him (in a silly voice), “you got you mad face on?” To which He responded that He would show me His mad face as another stroke was administered. After yelling “ow, that hurt”, I rolled through another fit of giggling hysterics.

Recently, we were trying some new positions for impact play. We moved the living room foot stool into the bedroom, which I was then bent over. Somewhere through the session, I heard a clanking sound. Startled me a bit, but didn’t want to break the focus of the session, so I stayed in place and we continued. Later I asked Sir what happened. (Giggles, again.) As He was drawing back with the belt for my next stroke, He got tangled in the ceiling fan and managed to turn off the fan, but not tear it from the ceiling. I about fell over laughing.

We have a lot of fun in our relationship. Whether a mundane day shopping or out at the park with the children, we are usually teasing and laughing with each other. And while my emotions run high most of the time in a negative way, it is important to focus too on them running in a positive way. We are very fortunate that we can laugh with and at each other and still maintain procedures and protocols.

Fantasy vs. Reality

The reality of a 24 hour Dominant/submissive relationship is not glamorous. It’s nothing like the “Fifty Shades of Grey” trilogy that we’ve all read and/or seen. It’s much more mundane and unremarkable than that. I had read the story of Christian Grey some time ago; and while it was quiet dreamy, most of us don’t stumble across a darkly brooding multimillionaire with very specific sexual desires. Instead we find the average guy that has some kinks that he prefers to play out with someone of a like mind.

I can’t say that I had a specific fantasy about what my D/s relationship would look like. I did some reading and research into the lifestyle when I first came across it a couple of years ago. I imagined it to be stilettos and thigh high stockings with bows on the back and a ball gag for daily attire. I imagined that during bed time I would be strapped down to the bed and ravaged for hours on end. I imagined that when in public I was to remain mute and unobtrusive. And that I was to be a mindless toy that was available whenever he desired.

None of that, not one little thing about it comes even close to how we run our 24/7 lifestyle. Instead of overt sexual fashion about the house, I wear specific styles and brands of panties under my clothes. Instead of being strapped to the bed and used for hours on end, I am an active participant. Instead of remaining silent in public, I am the social butterfly. And I am certainly not mindless, but carry on extensive intellectual conversations. Furthermore, we have other very discreet protocols that our children never pick up on. For instance at dinner, I wait until He eats first before I take my first bite. Before my clothes are laid out for the day, His are ironed and set out neatly for Him to easily dress in the morning. I also, always walk behind and to His left. And no one is any wiser to what is happening between the two of us; that gentle exchange of power.

I think these more subtle and discreet acts of submission are much more positive than all the dramatic things that people post online about themselves. The routineness of a 24/7 doesn’t lead to disappointment when he doesn’t perform like Mr. Grey. I believe there is a time and place for overt fantastical Dominant/submissive acts, but daily submission requires a finesse that only a few can achieve.

Remnants

Remnants are small remaining quantities of something. I had remnants of former relationships when I came to my current Dom. Most disguised as “friends”, “just friends”, “someone to hang out with”. However, as benign as that may sound, it was an inaccurate state of affairs.

Most of those relationships ended for whatever inconsequential reason I could devise; yet, I did not want to completely walk away and be done with it. There was still some attraction, some lingering want. As a counselor once said to me, “go away a little closer”; it’s a paradigm that cannot be reconciled. It’s wanting to get away and find something better yet the fear of being alone is present too.

I kept one “friend” because he was a great conversationalist (when he was sober), but usually ended up using me. I kept another “acquaintance” just in case things changed. I kept another “friend” because we’d been friends since high school. I kept ex-husbands within arms reach as a safety net.

Deeply seated in the dark recess of my mind (where the demons that haunt me live), I was convinced that they wanted me still, that I was good enough, that I was acceptable. And the larger my entourage, the more I was loved. Some were there to stroke my ego, some were there to provide a safety net, some were there just because I could not draw a line in the sand. But all of this was at great cost. Certainly they would give me the attention I wanted – in that moment, but then it was “I’ll call you sometime” and the demons began to whisper again.

My Dom was initially frustrated with the remnants and did not understand why. To the normal person, it is difficult to explain. And through patiences, perseverance, and boundaries I have been able to rid myself of those remnants… and the demons are quieting.

Good vs. Bad

I’m sure I’ve mentioned before that we live this life in a very low protocol (due to children) 24/7 manner because I need consistency; I struggle with back and forth. And most days I feel like I’m hitting all the marks and I am by far the best submissive in the lifestyle ever. Then there are other days when I can’t seem to get anything correct. Now Sir has never, not in the slightest way, ever hinted to the fact that I am not a good submissive. So that leaves the thoughts of good versus bad all in my head (as are most things).

So, let’s evaluate a bad submissive (and I mean bad as in she just ain’t gettin’ it). Submission is extremely selfless. I can think about myself, however, it isn’t going to do me any good and it is especially not what this life is about. When I first started out in the lifestyle not too long ago, I still wanted to do things my way and on my schedule. I was in trouble more often than not because of that thinking. But when I learned to let go and focus on Him, I received more freedoms than I could ever imagine. Bad submissive = selfish. Not that she forgot something in the laundry one day or that dinner was late to the table, those are simple errors. A selfish person is not a submissive.

Now a good submissive on the other hand, is not one who has no limits or follows orders mindlessly. No, a good submissive is attentive and predictive, willing and able, adaptable, intelligent, and willing to push boundaries. I’ve learned that I don’t have to like what He likes, nor do I have to do my tasks with exuberant enthusiasm; but I do have to do them to the best of my ability.

I hold myself to a higher standard of service than Sir does. My expectations for myself are quite grandiose. And that may be why some days I feel like I just can’t seem to perform correctly. The days that I’m off track are not tragic events, it’s simple things like a chore isn’t completed properly or I forget to ask permission for something. I am getting better about feeling like I am a good submissive. Tasks are becoming second nature, I don’t get too bratty about something I don’t like and everyday I realize how valuable I am to Him.