She moans that she has “Noooooooo privacy” – and that she has no rights. And she maintains that I am as owned as she. Secretly (ok – not so secretly now) I agree. I am captivated by my captive.
The other night we had a long conversation about why my non-BDSM marriage was not as successful or satisfying to me (though it lasted longer) than my previous M/s relationship. First, I think my marriage was a mistake held together by children (who are not, never were and never shall be any sort of error – they are loved without limits and I am completely content to accept my responsibility for them). Then, I think my M/s relationship was happy because I never had any doubt that she was less than completely focussed on me – or I on her. When that changed, it failed.
Then we were going out to a posh frock do. She brought several with her, for her to choose. She didn’t: I did. Then, she dithered over “stockings or legs”. I chose legs. On the way to the supper we discussed this. She agreed she was used to parading options and asking DMBLBIT, etc – and that being told what she will wear, and being confident that I do it because I think she looks fantastic, was an immense relief. But – it would not have been if she thought I had other than her best interests at heart. Dressing her for dogging or munching is, of course, quite different. Oh, and she buys my ties…
I am bullying her incessantly about losing weight on her tummy – and she is obdurate in insisting I get to the dentist. Neither of us resents the other in doing this – we are taking responsibility for the other’s welfare.
She knows I want her to be the best she can be for me – and that I define what that means. She stretches to meet my standards and delights in pleasing me, because she knows she is cared for and need never worry about being put in a position that she resents – because I concentrate on knowing her.
I feel great. So, I think, does she.
Who wants non-BDSM? Not I.
Originally posted to “Informed Consent”, 30 June 2009.