Sunday, February 28, 2010

Subtle Realities and Creeping Doom...

We are all familiar with the fantasy aspects of this lifestyle of ours. A slave on her knees for hours, kneeling next to the chair like a loyal dog just waiting to be sent to fetch drinks or what have you, or using her as a foot stool while watching a movie. The reality, maybe she kneels there for half an hour before her submission is claimed by either boredom or joint ache.

Living in this lifestyle for over ten years now has carved a very deep and blatant line between the fantasy and the reality of owning a slave. A collar around her neck does not mean there won't be arguments, fights, bad days, misunderstandings, etc. But also, and more surprisingly, the subtle aspects of living this life have proven to be much more meaningful and even enjoyable than the blazing neon of the fantasy parts.

Sceneing brings us much closer to the fantasy than the everyday aspects of ownership and in truth it is very important to both of us. Having a chance to play, to push the line, to put her on her knees with a whip in hand and watch her moan under the lash. Ohhhh. I need that. No matter how much subtlety there maybe around here, nothing grabs a slave's attention quite like the rattle of a chain and the crack of a whip. And this golden goose is what we are missing, its bones picked clean by our son. Figuratively I can see him licking the goose grease from his fingers with a shit-eating, satisfied grin.

Let me give you an example. Just the other day, my sweet slave and I were home before I had to go to work. She was laying on the floor in the living room at my feet and nodded off. After a long time of suspicious silence I began to wonder about my son. I go into the bedroom and find that he has also nodded off. Its go time! I nab rope, a ball gag, and a blindfold and am on my slave in an instant. Her hands bound behind her back, the ball gag shoved in her mouth, and the blindfold over her eyes.

My hand clamped on her collar, I lead her to the other bedroom, lay down a cover sheet, and strip her ass down. Here is where the fantasy says she melts in my hands, moaning and begging, cunt dripping and I fuck her into a cum-ma. The reality; the ball gag keeps pinching her lip, the blindfold was giving her a headache, and her shoulders were barking with her hands bound under her. There is nothing quite as satisfying sexually than looking down at your slave while pounding away and she has the same face she has when having cramps. Have you ever been in the middle of fucking and you have to ask yourself if you even want to keep going? I don't recommend it. So I force myself to finish regardless, at which point the mix of my sweat and other fluids begins to make her itch. That's right, my slave is chemically allergic to me! I'm now feeling rejected on every level including chemical!

The fantasy could not have been more shattered if Thor himself pounded the hell out of it with his hammer. If this was an isolated incident, I could write it off as a bad moment. But this has been every mother loving time I've had a chance nearly all this month.

Now for the subtlety of ownership... I send her to shower to clean off and she asks me if I am going to get in with her. At this point I do have to shower for work, but I'm more than willing to wait till she is done and out of the bathroom. Finally I just jump in, since she was obviously going to take her time. She then offers to bathe me. A fantastically submissive act, scrubbing away, getting covered in boy soap as she calls it, and looking sexy and wet. Now this wasn't a formal display, something ritualized with flickering candles and Enigma music playing. It was just an intimate moment and entirely instigated by my slave because she wanted to make me happy.

I love the subtlety of ownership...

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