We were talking about behavior modification. I was curious what he thought about it. Then:
“Is that why you consider yourself a Dominant rather than a Master?”
“The meanings are interchangeable.”
“No difference then?” I asked.
“I am the Master of someone, through Domination. Long term, short-term, doesn’t really matter. It’s just a title,” he said.
“But you would say there is a difference between a submissive and a slave?”
“Yes, I would.”
He goes on to explain in his introspective and thoughtful way, why there is a difference, and how he feels about keeping a slave and how he feels about Domination. Consider me the wide-eyed pupil at his feet. I like to listen to him speak about anything, but especially subjects that we share a mutual interest in.
I tell him that I consider Orgasm Control to be a behavior modification. I explain why and just how it is different than micromanagement. He concedes that he never saw it from my perspective. He is the Master of will and flesh and doesn’t need micromanagement to dominate. Of this I am glad. I’ve never wanted to be micro managed, and I’ve never wanted the kind of commitment that being a slave requires. If you’ve been reading for a while, you should know by now, how I feel about long-term commitment of any kind, really.
However, I’ve been finding myself having day dreams, waking fantasies, if you will, of a 24/7 dynamic. I don’t want to be a slave, by any means. I don’t have it in me to give over my life to someone, anyone like that. I don’t have it in me to ask for permission to use the bathroom (not all M/s dynamics do that of course, but it is a perfectly good example of the kinds of things I won’t do). I’ve said before that Sir and I are not in 24/7 dynamic and that I don’t necessarily care to be in one, or that it isn’t prudent, certainly. But I think it’s pretty obvious that I have a homemaker/50s/happy home/domestic discipline fetish, no?
So no, I don’t want to be a slave, and I don’t necessarily want a live-in 24/7 dynamic, but I’ve definitely been having fantasies about it lately.
I’ve been fantasizing about rigid rules… a curfew, a bedtime, perhaps even an allowance to help curb my ridiculous spending habits. There are other things… not quite rules… him picking out my panties and stockings every day before work, being made to wear my collar in the house, being made to wear no panties in the house, sitting on his lap in front of guests, being available for his pleasure 24/7.
It’s that last one that gets me bad. The idea of coming home, stepping out of my panties and going about my evening. Maybe I have chores to do, and then dinner. He’d come home, and I’d hear him settling in, relaxing. Maybe he takes a shower and I make him a drink and we have a lovely dinner, and we watch movies on the couch, his hand nuzzled in between my thighs, idly stroking me while he is engrossed in the film, or maybe with my head in his lap, pleasuring him while he relaxes.
Or maybe he comes in the door, after a long day, stalks me in the kitchen, comes up behind me at the stove, hikes my skirt up, bends me over the counter and fucks me until he cums. He would peel my skirt back down, pat my ass, and go wash up while I continue cooking. The slick feel of our mingled sex would slide down my thighs while I seared and seasoned the asparagus.
This would be normal.
This is what I fantasize about when I entertain the idea of 24/7. Not a slave, just a live-in submissive. Just a fuck toy, like I am now, but always ready. This is what makes me wet while I wile away the hours.