This is really a continuation of my last post. I thought I’d share what service meant to me and my significant other, so many years ago…
First of all, service was not (except in special and particular cases) about cooking (try keeping me out of the kitchen!), cleaning or other domestic chores. We both worked and domestic drudgery was shared. No, service was about rituals and rules that shaped our lives and the way we related to . It evolved into a complicated pattern and included many specifics all designed to pin us into our roles as master and servant (I’m not sure slave is quite right – I think we aspired in that direction but never quite achieved it).
Some of the specifics included:
She never spoke unless spoken to or unless seeking and being given permission to speak. This pertained in private and in public – in public situations we used subtle signals to ask, give or deny permission.
I would always let her know when I was expected home each evening – and she would endeavour to be there before me, groomed, lubricated and available in case of my need and with my favourite drink mixed and ready.
In company, at parties, etc, she would fetch both our drinks, she would stand in queues at the buffet/barbie, etc.
At home, she would not sit in my presence without permission, nor ever on furniture unless invited. In public, she would always sit at my feet if at all seemly.
She did not pee nor poo without my permission.
She laid out my clothes of an evening and always tied my tie in the mornings.
She would not feed herself without my permission. It was common for us to share a large plate, with me feeding her, or her dipping in when given permission.
She would usually retire 20 minutes before me, to groom, shave and prepare herself in case I required her services.
We shared a love of books. We’d often turn off the TV and she’d read to me, aloud.
She always drew my baths.
She always sought approval for anything she was to wear, if I had not already made a choice.
In public I always opened doors for her, helped her into cars, did her seatbelt. If ever asked why, we always said to protect her fingernails from harm: They were, in fact, spectacular.
I am migrating my blog from UK BDSM website, Informed Consent (due to close in February 2013), to this, my private blog and also to the new community website it seems most likely that c_b and I will use going forward, Fetbook. This blog “The Rules We Lived By” was first published on Informed Consent on 6 April 2005. My private blog is belasarius.comRelated articles
- Having her informed consent (belasarius.com)
- BDSM protocol – a definition (belasarius.com)
- Our protocols (belasarius.com)
A dominant and submissive life 
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