One Size Fits All - or - What Kind of Sub Are You Anyway?

Yesterday I went out to a showroom and bought us a car.

All by myself.

I mention this because in the wonderful world that is the internet, there are lots of people who say 'A true sub always...' or 'a real submissive never....' I'd be willing to guess that a real, true submissive, would never be allowed to choose the family car. That's a pretty big investment of money and a big commitment. Certainly a responsibility for the dominant.

He made the decision that it was time for a new car, because he doesn't want his wife and child driving around in the current heap of junk any longer. But that was where his involvement ended. I did the research - fuel economy, insurance groups, reliability and so on - and I went out and got us one. Did I mention I also chose our house? He didn't even see it until the day we moved in.

While we're on the subject of un-subly things I do, I also pick his clothes, hire tradespeople, arrange social occasions and go to the bathroom whenever I please. What kind of sub am I? What kind of dominant is he, that he allows this?

D/s is not one size fits all. I've had one two many people tell me, during an otherwise sensible conversation, that 'your Master shouldn't allow that', 'he's not training you properly' or 'If you were a true submissive...' Ultimately submission is not in the actions but rather the intent behind those actions. It so happens that Husband couldn't care less about what type of car we have, as long as it runs and is safe. He also has better things to do on his evenings and weekends than listen to sales pitches and discuss the cubic capacity of the boot. Therefore, as his sub, I see it as my job to take care of it. Just like I take care of the clothes shopping or the sending of birthday cards or anything else that cuts into his precious home-time. Perhaps you would never allow your sub to do such things, and that's fine, but don't tell me my submission is less because of it. If I'm making him happy, I must be doing a good job!

Also, I've never had a brand new car before, and I am so excited! Roll on delivery day!

how duz he punish u?

I have a collar me profile and have a lot of people contact me asking to discuss my life in a 24/7 relationship, which I'm happy to do. After all, there's always something we can learn from others and it's interesting to hear how other people do what it is we do.

Sadly these conversations don't usually work out the way I hope. In a good 85% of cases, the conversation becomes about fishing for dirty stories within the first three or four messages. In general, it tends to be people asking about what type of punishments I receive. For some reason, these messages are always written in text speak, almost as if the sender was already typing with one hand in anticipation of the response. I try to steer the conversation in the direction of an interesting discussion about punishment dynamics and styles of dominance, but find myself being pressed for the specific details. They want a blow-by-blow account (no pun intended) of the whole procedure. I can only assume they are hoping for a story that begins with 'He walked in and caught me with a cucumber....' and ends with '...all over my face'. You can feel free to fill in the middle with whatever pleases you.

I'm by no means shy about the details of my sex life, but I always resist this type of chat. After all, this is my life, not a fantasy. If I've been punished, that means there has been a hiccup somewhere in our domestic bliss. There's something mildly disturbing about the thought of someone getting all excited over something bad happening to us. I totally understand that lots of porn and erotica uses the premise of a punishment as an excuse for naughty fun time, and that a lot of these people have fantasies which involve the words ''You bad girl, bend over this instant!'. So I can see why this might be an appealing topic of conversation. But honestly, we're grown ups, we don't need an excuse to break out the paddle. I've given myself to my husband, if he wants to whip me for fun, he can. A punishment means something has gone wrong.

I don't blame people for asking the questions, though I do slightly blame them when I try to explain the above, and get the follow up message 'Duz he hit ur tits?' It further adds insult to injury when people asking these questions do so under the pretense of learning or getting ideas on how to discipline and maintain control of their own sub. Really? You're so lacking in imagination that you need to know whether Husband likes me in a particular colour of underwear for spankings?

Anyway, I'm going off on a rant here. I just wanted to explain, in the unlikely event that any of those people read this, why I get tired of this question.

And as a peace offering and gesture of goodwill, I have decided to describe my most recent punishment for your reading pleasure:

As a punishment for continuing to ask for a mars bar after he said no, I have been banned from eating mars bars for life.

Isn't that hot?

Doubts

Last night I had one of those nights.

We've had a rough week, Husband and I. Baby is teething, and we've all had colds. It may not sound like much, but as anyone with kids will know, teething is a parenting trial-by-fire. Our baby has never slept through the night, but lately there's been no sleep at all, for any of us. Between the screaming, the vomit, the sniffles and the restlessness, we're all exhausted and grumpy. To make things worse the baby (who will happily sleep through the sounds of heavy machinery and fire alarms) is scared to tears every time my husband sneezes.

So what does this have to do with submission? A lot, as it turns out.

I'm the type of person who tends to overthink things at the best of times. And when I'm sleep deprived, my ability to keep that in check decreases dramatically. I feel frustrated at the baby when she spits out the medicine that I know will make her feel better. Then I feel guilty for feeling frustrated. Before you know it I'm feeling like the worst mother in the world.

It works the same way with submission. I want to submit to my husband. I do, oh so badly. But I find I easily slip into that negative cycle of questioning and doubting myself and I'm particularly vulnerable to it when I'm tired and stressed out. The house is a mess - I've barely had a minute when the baby hasn't needed me, and when I have got a second to myself, I slacked off. I sat my ass down and enjoyed the silence. We haven't eaten well - we've had several takeaways since I've also slacked off on the cooking. So much for the healthy diet he requires. Husband understands - he's not an unreasonable Master. But I feel bad. I start to beat myself up. On one hand, I wish he would punish me because I want to be held to higher standards and I don't want to be let off the hook at any slight inconvenience. On the other hand, would I really want to be in a power exchange relationship with someone who punished me for being human and for having a bad day? After all, he's struggling too after this tiring week - would I want him to punish me for feeling the same way?

You can see what I mean about overthinking. It starts here and ends with me feeling like jelly and wondering whether this is the right type of relationship for me at all.

It is, of course. I always come through these wobbles with my husband's support. But after six years I feel I ought to be on top of this now.

Vanilla is Delicious

The word 'vanilla' is often used to mean 'not kinky' or at least 'not as kinky as me'. Often this word seems to be used in a disparaging way, as if those with so-called vanilla tastes are somehow less enlightened than those of us who like to whip out the odd pair of handcuffs.

Two things spring to mind when I hear the word used this way:

1) You don't really know what those 'vanilla' folks are getting up to behind closed doors. Your friends, your neighbours, even dear old Granny, could well be into things way out of your comfort zone.

2) Vanilla is delicious.

There's a reason vanilla is the standard flavour of ice cream. Because it's yummy. Because it goes with everything. Because everyone likes it. And because it is so wonderful at putting other flavours into scrumptious contrast.

I am certain that from the outside my husband and I appear vanilla. And that's fine with me! Because most of the things we get up to are vanilla. When you're living 24/7 D/s, it can't all be kneeling and nudity. At some point, the bills have to be paid and the dishes have to be washed and you can't take the car to be serviced whilst wearing only a pair of nipple clamps and some six inch stilettos (well you can, but you shouldn't). Most of the time, I don't even call him Sir or Master. The dynamic is always there beneath the surface of course, because it's an integral part of our relationship. But most of the actual day to day activities are very vanilla. My service to him is translated into caring for the family and the home. His orders more frequently relate to running errands or staying healthy that they do to begging and crawling. Friday night was spent cuddled on the sofa, watching bad movies and wearing... wait for it... baggy pyjamas. And it was lovely.

I love our vanilla moments - a trip to the cinema, a quiet family dinner, a snuggle in bed. And best of all, when the kinky mood strikes or the sadist comes out to play, the contrast is all the more striking and beautiful.

The Wimpiest Masochist on the Block

I'm not sure I have any right to call myself a masochist, since I don't really like pain. I am a huge wuss, and it takes very few strokes of any implement to make me shriek. To complicate matters, Himself is a sadist, and believes that toys are meant to hurt.

I do enjoy all the other things that go along with the pain. I love feeling that I really endured something for his pleasure. It's easy to submit to something you really like, but submitting to those things that are tough makes me feel that I did a good job. Next, I love the fear, and you don't get fear unless there's something to be frightened.

Mostly, I love marks. I love a lasting reminder of what I went through. Unfortunately I don't bruise easily, so those marks, when I get them, are hard earned.

I know he holds back on his sadism for my sake, which I appreciate, though at the same time I want to make him happy - I want him to take what he wants. That's why I was pretty excited this week when he gave me the go-ahead to purchase a cane. 

After a little bit of research I've ordered a Junior Dragon Cane. I'm thrilled, and terrified.

Wish me luck!

Love, Honour and Obey

My name is Athena, and I'm the perfect wife.

Picture this:

He comes home after a long day at work. The house (which is immaculate) smells faintly of freshly baked bread and home-made chocolate chip cookies. His wife, perfectly turned out and made up, greets him with an ice-cold drink and a kiss. The baby plays contentedly with her highly educational toys. After dinner (organic, ethically sourced and delicious, naturally) and baby's bedtime, we enjoy sparkling conversation on the topics of politics, philosophy and the arts. He snaps his finger and off I hurry to cater to his every whim and desire. A little hanky-panky and off to bed by half-past-nine.

Well, that's not my life.

My husband and I are in a 24/7 D/s relationship. What that means, in layman's terms, is that he's the boss. He orders, I obey. He makes the rules. I try ever so hard to follow them. I'm a long way from perfect.

From the outside we look like a very traditional relationship. He goes out to work, I stay home. I do the housework, the cooking, the cleaning. I look to him for decisions. He doesn't micromanage, but he has standards that he expects me to meet and there are consequences for disobedience.

Some days, D/s for us means hot kinky sex in the bedroom and idyllic, 1950s Better Homes and Gardens style domestic bliss outside the bedroom. Most days, it's just two people doing the best we can to make a good life for each other and our family. It just so happens that for us, that includes a power-exchange relationship.

People occasionally talk about being a 'natural submissive' - if such a person exists, I am not one of them. Submission, for me, takes work. I submit to my husband because he inspires it in me - he is dependable, reasonable, loving, firm and kind. But it is still hard work. There are days when following orders is an inconvenience. There are days when I doubt myself, my ability to submit, and even whether submitting is the right thing to do. I was not brought up in a world where women submit to men. My parents and grandparents had very equal relationships. I had a good education where the girls were expected to achieve in the same ways as the boys. I worked in a male-dominated environment making decisions that put my ass (and other people's asses) on the line. Surely to come home and sit at my husband's feet goes against all of that?

I'm hoping this blog will document the tiny struggles and victories that go to making a strong and successful D/s relationship, as well as give me somewhere to share the little things that don't often come up in conversation amongst my other circles of friends.