Service

Years ago, I shared some correspondence with a genuine but odd sort of person with a strong understanding of what made submissive women tick. He trained them, not just on the Internet but at his home and for other men sometimes. He was blunt and in any body's terms, rude, but I continued to correspond to gather what wisdom he might have to help me understand myself.

He spoke of 'service'. It was a pattern I identified, and I asked why he often talked of 'serving'. I'd been providing service to others all my life, and it wasn't necessarily getting me closer to feeling whatever I needed to feel to be comfortable in my own skin. He was obtuse, or he pretended he was obtuse, and he said he didn't know.

It's come up again in various capacities over time. I will read something, or someone will say something in conversation like, "You need to serve". It's almost as if there is some innate understanding in some people that some women truly do need to be in that serving/slave mode in order to fully express themselves; in order to feel at peace within their own minds and bodies.

When I look back over the past several years and I think about the times when I did feel complete I was, in fact, 'serving'. There was something asked of me and thus I had an opportunity to serve. If I served well and gave pleasure, and thus received praise, I was perfectly content. If I didn't serve well and didn't please and instead was admonished, I felt aberrant. It prompted me to want to serve better next time because I hate displeasing. I hate the feelings it generates in me. Think of it like this for a moment: Providing good service = a happy and content submissive.

There are two points I'd like to make about that. First of all, if you don't provide a submissive woman with those opportunities to serve it's almost tantamount to not feeding a baby. You are robbing her of one of her basic necessities of life. Oh, she'll cook or do the laundry or buy you a shirt in lieu of the more intense and life-giving service she needs to give to you, but it will never be enough to scratch her itch. It is this wisdom that my gentleman correspondent knew in his bones but refused to put into sentences for me.

Secondly, if a submissive woman is frantic for particular feelings, that feeling of having served well, thus putting her world on the right axis, she may well do just about anything you ask. It's typical for a submissive woman at some stage to be asked by a Dominant what she wants. She can speak to her fantasy life, of course, but that doesn't necessarily get you closer to what she wants in real life. You could have her fill in a list of various BDSM activities and that would gauge her experience and her inclinations. But, given that the sub-text is 'Geez, I just want to serve you. I want that feeling that comes when I do that and after I do that and you're pleased with me and we're in harmony...' it is altogether possible that you can lead a submissive woman down roads and lanes that she would never have thought to go.

A Dominant has a great deal of responsibility because there is just no doubt that a submissive woman is vulnerable to his state of mind. She is constantly checking in as to his responses. Does he want her to do something that makes her skin crawl? Well, what are her options? She could say she can't do that, or doesn't want to do that, or that it doesn't feel right, but she's risking making him unhappy and thus herself unhappy, and so she adapts to his needs and fancy, whether they are particularly healthy for her or not. This is the risk.

In an ideal relationship, there will be a flow of communication between both people that means they are in tune with one another and these sort of issues can be addressed before they become big boulders of misunderstanding. I've heard so much about 'communication is key' but not having been in a relationship with a steady flow of shared ideas and thoughts I haven't entirely understood how that works. I've never been that exposed. It hasn't been wanted.

Now that I do understand that my innate drive is to serve I realize how easily I could be, or have been, seduced to believe anything. For some time, I fell back on my own wits, my own instincts to keep me safe. I reached a point where I doubted my ability to make a decision for myself too. I just crawled back to a safe place inside myself where nobody could hurt me any more. I am happy to say that I feel stronger now, at peace with my own nature. I understand what I need. I understand myself and what happened in the journey thus far.

The philosophy behind IT

Since my research of BDSM encompassed all sorts of philosophies and mindsets it took me quite a while to figure out where I fit. I was particularly unsure about the differences between 'submissives' and 'slaves' and I'd read the definitions over and over trying to get it straight as to what or who I was. However, I don't think my mind ever really strayed from the notion that I definitely wanted more than to be submissive in a sexual way; only in the bedroom, so to speak. I'd read that category and feel immediately that this was not going to be enough for me.Within the training and the acceptance of all things 'doll' I found what I had been looking for; the philosophy of living out my life that made sense for me.

Instinctively, I understood that I wanted to be 'owned'. I honestly don't recall any degree of resistance or negative reaction to that word at all. I may have forgotten it if I did. When I agreed to be 'trained' I had a bit of 'hair trigger' anger going on and I do distinctly remember being darn mad about the comment that I needed to be tethered when I was angry. I remember saying that a person who was angry needed to vent and he responded that he agreed; that an angry woman should vent all she wished but that for her safety she needed to be tethered whilst doing so. I could feel the bile rising when I read that. Speaking of barking dogs needing to be tethered for their safety (an analogy he used) I wanted to tell him to get 'dog knotted'. Instead, I said that I needed to go. Even at the beginning of training I was aware on one level that it wouldn't pay to let my anger get too out of hand with him.

Over time, I learned that I needed to do much more than not express my anger in inappropriate ways. I needed to walk the tightrope of being honest and open at the same time as I kept a hold of my anger. I came to appreciate that there is a marvelous sense of satisfaction for a man in seeing that a woman is trapped. She understands that it is her duty and her place to accept and obey commands. Even though she may be reveling in her capture, in spite of some discomfort potentially, she has mixed emotions about the fact that the man is radiating in her mixed state of mind. How much fun to have control of a doll, so perverted that she revels in her own demise; that she knows full well that displaying a peak of anger will result in correction she does not want! What a devilishly dirty trick to say things to the doll that she knows she must not respond to, if she has a healthy respect for her fate.

"Wuts da dolli goin 2 do bowt it?" is the sort of question that she might be asked; caught, captured, bound. There's a little bit of resistance going on here but the game is enticing; intoxicating for her too. You must trust me on this. It's the sort of moment that dolls live for. Oh, I think I've digressed.

I can't speak for younger women but I think that older women, born in a different culture to the one today in so many ways, understand that marriage was for a reason. A woman, back then anyway, instinctively understood the benefits of ownership and it wasn't a particularly negative term in her mind. If you were his wife, then he was your husband, you see. Of course, generalizations are useless but with less equality back then, this was one area where there seemed to be mutual benefit. If I look after him, then he'll look after me. How that notion looked to each couple I cannot say but in my mind was the understanding that marriage was something that I wanted. So, being 'owned' wasn't a stretch for me. I wanted to feel owned and I wanted to serve.

The creation of the 'fucktoy' takes us much further in philosophy; much, much deeper, but not necessarily problematically. First, there must be the understanding that one's body belongs to the owner; that the holes are for his use. If the training is done well, the object realizes that although it is about the owner's happiness, use is what the doll wants; needs; requires. The whole idea is to entice the owner to use her; to keep her well oiled and serviced. There was nothing about this idea I didn't like. The new terminology - pussycunt, asscunt and mouthcunt - turned me on. I loved (and love) to use those words. I love to be used; to sink down in my mind to a place that arouses my body and provides great pleasure for us both.

The idea of permanent changes to the body really excited me although I went slow, reticent about how my owner would feel about this sort of thing, probably needlessly. Somehow or other I never managed to get 'owner tags' (nipple rings) but I intend to. Removal of some pubic hair, long fingernails, anal training, longer hair - all these changes turned me on. I love to feel like a fucktoy and to think like a fucktoy.

So, to return to my opening remarks, feeling like a fuck toy (or doll) 24/7 is really my goal. Most importantly, I don't want difficult times, times of academic pressure and long work hours to interfere with this mindset. I want to hold onto the doll state of mind no matter what is happening in my life.

Whatever rules I live by I live by for this reason  - to have one all consuming and all abiding philosophy with which to live my life - that I am owned, that I must do that which entices my owner; that I must obey commands and live according to my nature. It is not for everyone but it absolutely turns me on. Living with a turned on, happy and peaceful woman, it turns out, is exactly the all consuming philosophy that suits my 'owner'  as well.

On a day to day level, it is resisting the impetus to put all my focus into my work and family during peak times of activity that is the goal I have yet to master. Accepting with all my heart and mind that I do best in the doll state, even when tackling difficult tasks or coping with time limits and deadlines as well as the demands of family life is my Achilles heel, sometimes.  Being a doll is not something that you pick up and put down as life alters but rather a state of mind (and body) that one lives with 24/7. Some concessions can be made (asked for, at least) according to the needs of the doll but removing oneself from the dolly state of mind altogether for periods of time is a slippery slope and one that leads to grazed knees. I know this but at times I still do falter. But, I'm getting there...inching closer to an ideal state, thank goodness.

Service

A few weeks back I was making dinner. I think I was waiting for the vegetables to finish roasting, or some such process as that and I decided to turn on the television and see if I could find something interesting for a few minutes. My attention was immediately grabbed by a old nun. I had entered the documentary at the moment they were explaining that this nun was once a famous Hollywood actress. She was a gorgeously feminine and refined young woman and there was footage of her with her beau; a man who was engaged to her and very, very much in love with her, as she was with him. They looked stunning together.

Shortly before their wedding he noticed a change in her demeanor and asked her what was wrong. It was at that point that she revealed that she couldn't let go of the idea in her head to join a group of nuns; that whilst she loved him she felt a burning need to serve God.

He was devastated and for a time they were estranged. However, they returned to one another. To this day, I think some forty years or more later, she is still a nun; in fact, she is the head nun (sorry, I'm sure I am using inaccurate words) and he still visits her regularly. He never married and he never found another woman to love the way he loved her, and so he returns to her on a regular basis to visit.

I happened to have been viewing towards the end of the documentary and I saw them embrace and say goodbye to one another on this particular day. He walked away from her as he must have done endless times before and for a brief moment sadness was registered on her face, but then she seemed to go inward again, cross herself and turn towards the big cross on the table in front of her;  to her service towards God. Her equilibrium was restored. She was serene.

A few minutes before this scene, a young nun came to see her to explain that she was still having moments of struggle. The struggle was apparent in the words she chose and in her evident sense of agitation. The old Nun assured her that all was in order; that she had made so much progress. She was doing well.

It all moved me deeply. These people deeply touched my soul.

Heavenly delights

When it all falls into place, when everything feels totally natural, there is no struggle at all. In the head space of the doll all instructions are good instructions because the doll doesn't struggle or have doubts or worries. She very much lets it all go and just bunkers down into that tiny teeny spot where she feels ultra comfortable and totally relaxed.

For a myriad of reasons we can feel anxious about aspects of our life. Some of us are inclined to be more anxious than others, often with good reason. Some of us had better starts than others and it's those first dozen or more years that really do dictate how tough that road will be.

How marvelous then that we have a vehicle with which to relax. In the space of the doll all commands make total sense because she's doesn't have the the slightest interest in control, or power, or struggle. She isn't worried about anything actually because she's only got one purpose. Keeping the focus this narrow guarantees that all day-to-day concerns can't fit into her head. It's such a teeny tiny space.

Not all men, but certainly some men find interacting with a woman who has let it all go, let her shoulders drop to the point where you can visually see the stress leaving her body, very relaxing as well. Oh sure, there's the voracious aspect about it - the fox with his mouth open and the saliva dripping from his jaws - but he also enjoys the fact that he is suddenly dealing with an entity without a care in the world, someone who wouldn't dream of not doing as she has been instructed.

The dolly head space, certain bars of music, vistas, words, sounds and thoughts can transform my everyday world into moments of heavenly delight and a lightness of being.  I'm really always on the lookout for those special moments that transport me above and beyond into some other planetary orbit, even if just for a few minutes, or even a few special moments. It's what keeps writers, painters, sculptors, landscape gardeners, musicians, chefs and many other creative beings doing what they do - trying to create something truly beautiful; a heavenly delight.

Purpose

May you laugh easily
may your life be filled with joy and peace
may you be open to the beauty of life;
always remember that my love is your surround sound

 Men like Mozart gave their gifts to the world
 But I can only offer you what I have to give -
 eternal unconditional love, tolerance and
 a state of bliss and harmony.

Accept this gift.
Let it rise you up and compel you to live
Completely, cheerfully and contentedly.

This is my purpose.

Flight of fancy

Good evening, kind Sir. I wish to please you.
What is your fancy on this fair night?

What may I do for you, or rather
what would you care to do to me?

You toy with me.
Perhaps I might toy with you, too.

You seek your sadistic pleasures I know,
fear not; I translate it as thrill.

High maintenance doll

It has been a particularly busy few months with my husband barely at home these days and my trip away imminent. With only one adult at home, many tasks inevitably fell to me, many of which I hate to do because they are of a technical nature and I am finding it a bit like learning a foreign language. I have to keep learning the jargon to understand what people are saying to me and take my ‘best guess’ as to what sort of response I should give them.

The situation has dynamically changed because whereas my husband wanted to make these choices and decisions in the past and I would need to confer with him, now he pushes me to just get things done the best way I can.

This situation is not conducive to the dolli state of mind and I find myself going through a transition period where I am riling against being given this latitude. Suddenly, *I* have to deal with the techno heads, or the car repair people getting quotes for a silly person that banged into the back of my car, or for getting international roaming on my phone (I still don’t know if that actually went through since another sim card was declined) and it became impossible for me to hold my temper with the young man in the store and the woman on the phone who more or less just wished me luck with the situation, unable to figure what, if anything, went wrong with the long process.

As I stood in line at American Express waiting my turn to buy some English pounds, I tried my yoga deep breathing and asked myself, “Why are you so darn worked up about doing these chores yourself?”

I read a book a few months ago that spoke to the notion that we think of love in various ways. Some of us see being given things as love and others of us like me see service and time spent together as their preferred way of receiving love. When I send an email to my husband explaining that something needs to be done and he shoots back an email to me to just attend to it myself, I see that (and I know this is very irrational) as not loving me.

One email after another, one phone call after another, telling me to attend to things myself and just to go ahead without consultation with him is proving to be painful because it feels like rejection/lack of love.

At the time of reading the book, ‘The Five Love Languages” by Gary Chapman, I told my husband about the results in my case and he laughed and said that it made sense now – how much I get out of him doing a task for me and spending quality time with just me.

Both of those things are sorely lacking in my life at this time. Honestly, I don’t think he has the time to do anything about it right now, even if he remembered how this sort of thing effects me – not only doing the tasks he usually does himself or that I used to do with his consultation, but going to big events at school on my own, to dinner parties on my own, to bed on my own...

Now, I am about to travel on my own. I am thrilled at the opportunity to do so of course but I also look forward to some quality time with my husband too when we can just relax and luxuriate in each other with our phones turned off and nothing that we need to do for a few days or so. We are very overdue for that. I guess I am just at that moment in time when I wonder if all the work to get away is worth the effort.

But, it is of course very much worth the effort and especially so when I fix eyes on my darling daughter who will be waiting at Heathrow Airport to fetch me. What a ball we shall have with all of London to ourselves!

I am slightly disturbed to realize that the ‘bimbo’ tag really does apply to me in so many ways. I want an “owner” in more ways than one. Perhaps it is not meant to be so, but this dolli is ‘high maintenance’. Hmmmm. Oh well, you get what you pay for, right? If you want a very nice doll, that doesn’t come for free! (Yes, I did giggle when I wrote that.) I may be able to drop in here whilst away. Aeroplane trips do that to me. Be well. Stay safe.

Back to bimbo business

I mentioned recently that I made the rather bold decision (for me) to seek out the advice of a psychologist. My general doctor had a particular woman in mind; one with a doctorate in clinical psychology and it took some weeks to actually be able to sit down with her.

I got the impression that I was not a typical patient. I handed her notes in dot point form detailing my history, the facts of the matter and I finished the two page document with two goals for myself. It seems that is not the sort of thing she gets everyday but I felt it gave us an agenda so to speak and in the hour we spent together we covered a lot of ground and she found them very helpful.

The time went fast as she asked me question after question. Eventually she said that we needed to wrap up the session shortly and that she felt that three or four more sessions would enable us to deal with my first goal perfectly satisfactorily. I had explained that I had been experiencing what I called ‘flight or fight responses’ to what my husband was telling me lately (that related to a particularly ugly situation in business that put us under lots of stress). Another way of putting it would be mild panic attacks. I didn’t have all the symptoms of a ‘panic attack’ but it was darn close. She noted that I was almost there by myself; that I had negative thoughts but that I was able to “talk back to them” and she had some strategies for me to hone down that skill.

However she explained that my second goal was not really something that she felt she could assist me with. I had written, “I look for better ways to communicate/negotiate with my husband going forward”. She told me that from all I had said that my husband had a certain “style” and that he was definitely not going to change and that it was unrealistic of me to expect him to change.

Furthermore, she said that on at least two occasions I had made remarks that intimated that I didn’t want to be deeply involved with his business matters and that really what I wanted was just that he handle those matters himself. What she could do, she said, was give me some “coping skills” but that I needed to make my peace with the situation; that he was in control and I needed to cede control.

To make it clear I gave her adequate information to understand our personalities, our natures and our dynamic. I referred to his “dominant nature” and I explained that I was inclined to retreat to a “submissive bubble”. I noted that there was an agreed power exchange. It was made clear that I had no difficulty in reaching my “little girl within”, that I had abundant capacity for joy and that the love and the sexual attraction was very much intact. In a nutshell, she came to a conclusion that it was up to me to accept that I had no control other to accept that I had no control; to embrace it.

I cannot put into words what a huge relief this news was to me. Here was a particularly bright and learned girl in psychology who had made the assessment fast that she was sitting in front of a woman who was going through a crisis of the fitness of accepting her place as the bottom. If I merely relaxed and accepted that my place was ‘the bottom’ of the relationship and that it was perfectly okay to do so, everything would fall into place.

I could feel the tension leave my body the moments the words were out of her mouth. This was joyous news to my troubled mind and immediately and for the entire day, my mood was elevated. I felt myself returning to my pre-crisis state of mind.

That night, I had a burning desire to share this experience with my mentor and I said that the girl had agreed with what he had said all along. We talked about “embracing” the lack of control; that an owner will listen but will ultimately be responsible for making a decision; that cindi (as opposed to the doubting girl) really does look to remain in a peaceful place wherever possible. We talked about the fact that my “owner” doesn’t look to change cindi. He embraces cindi and all he asks is that I embrace him as the “owner”.

My anal training is one way that I feel controlled; an important way of letting go of any control. I am challenged with bigger plugs and if I do as expected, I feel that control on a regular basis and process that control in very positive ways (physically and emotionally). If I don’t do as expected then I am trying to take control of the plug which is seen as taking control of the relationship.

It felt empowering to do as directed; to accept the challenge; to know my place and my role; to reconnect. There are times when I have to beg to have the thing that he wants me to have. As odd as that sounds to some ears, it’s a wonderfully humbling feeling and an immensely elevating and emboldening feeling as well. Only a person with a truly submissive nature can understand the magic of it.

If I don’t comply and if I try to take control by not complying, I feel disconnected and that sense of a disconnection leaves me feeling much less. If I accept the challenges given to me, I feel a strong connection but I might wonder if I will be able to comply, for example, all through the night. What I am asked to do isn’t easy! I was encouraged to ‘let go’; to remove such questions from my mind; to just exist; to let Mr. Ringo take control; to not think at all; to turn more ‘bimbo’.

I understand that for some people who read here, the word ‘bimbo’ is not one of which they approve. For us, it signifies that letting go state; that just existing state; that non-thinking state; that peaceful, compliant and joyous state. At times, I am more than bimbo. On the odd occasion, I am merely ‘it’. Whilst that sounds something very small, to me they are experiences of the highest order; those times when I reach bliss.

Whilst I understand that being submissive is a continuous path with no specific end, to receive professional confirmation that I am doing the right thing meant a very great deal to me; the opportunity to feel that I have reached a certain place of peace in my mind with all that has taken place. Cindi is more me than Vesta. That is the bottom line. At the core of me and within my heart lives cindi; the doll that is happy, joyous, playful, wanting to please, to be lead and controlled. Cindi does not want to ‘over think’ nor does she want to worry unnecessarily. She wants an owner to serve and love and to protect and love her.

The financial crisis to which I have alluded in previous posts is not yet over though it is progressing along. My husband referred to the situation in an email today as “surreal”. It beggars belief! But, the crisis in my mind is over and whilst he is not yet able to return home to us, I feel a strong connection with him and with my mentor as well. The bimbo is back to bimbo business and it feels so good.


P.S. I have taken the 'Elisabeth' story down for now. It was written before this meeting took place, is shite and I need to review it.

Personal assistant

I have been thinking about the power exchange in a new way lately. I have been thinking about it in terms of profiling the types of people or perhaps I should say, personalities, who are best suited to, or might desire a power exchange.

For reasons that should be obvious to you it is not always easy to give examples as they pertain to my own life. It just is not politic! So, I am going to draw on my past. I have already catalogued my working relationship with a dominant man. I did that right at the beginning of my online journaling when I described my working life dynamic back on Deity’s blog.

Those years of being a Personal Assistant were important in preparing me to live a lifetime with a dominant man. Of course, my job was about providing efficiency to his office but the real work took place within the dynamic wherein he was the boss of the show and I was his helpmate. I remember certain words and conversations now and realize their importance.

I remember him returning from a board meeting triumphant and saying, “Vesta, I got everything I wanted!” “Terrific,” I replied. Another time he returned and said, “They didn’t agree to (whatever).” Then it was my turn to say, “Oh dear!” and listen to him tell me how such and such was such a snivelling bastard or words to that effect.

On one occasion he was bemoaning the fact that the Chairman was such a moron and why did he have to suffer such fools, and so on. I listened quietly and patiently, as always and then I said,

“But, think about it. You’ve got the support of the entire board. You run the show. And, you know that you can convince Geoffrey of anything. You know you have that under your control.”

He brightened up. I was quite right, of course. He knew how to smooth talk anyone and the Chairman was not a difficult or divisive or contrary man at all.

On another occasion, he did something a wee bit naughty and the head of another organisation called him on it. He rang and complained. He got off the phone and went into a guilt/defensive mode and kinda obsessed about that. I listened. Always. Listened. Then, I said,

“It’s a one day wonder. Tomorrow, it will be old news. Over.”

It seemed to snap him out of it. He got over it.

One time, the receptionist, a girl of whom he was fond, asked for an appointment to see him and she put forward her case as to why she should get a salary increase. This fazed him. He wasn’t in control. She was asking for something and it didn’t give him a chance to be generous. It was as if he had overlooked something or mistreated her and it couldn’t stand. He denied her request. But, immediately after he said to me that he couldn’t understand why she would do it. He had wanted to be generous but she had not gone about it the right way. It frustrated him.

Another day, a man came into this office just before lunch with an idea. It was not necessarily a bad idea. I am sure the man thought he was doing him a favour by offering the idea. But, the idea had been presented when he had something else on his mind and he had done it immediately before lunch. It did not go well.

He opened our adjoining door and said, “What sort of an idiot would approach me with a new idea immediately before I eat my lunch??!! Never do that, Vesta. Never, ever ask me for anything before lunch. If you want to ask a man for something, do it when he is well fed.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said.

I could go on and on.

The man I worked for wanted contol . He wanted to be right. He loathed the idea of making a mistake.

One day, I was in the car when the driver, who I knew well, was dropping my boss off at an appointment. I remember telling him something and I remember him responding to me, just before he got out of the car.

“Just do your best, Vesta. Just do your best."

We drove away and the driver, who only spoke when he had something important to say said,

“What a joke! As if your best would ever be good enough for him.”

Of everyone in the organisation, he was most hard on himself. The high standards he asked of everyone else in the organisation were simply indicative of the standards he applied to himself.

Was I sometimes frustrated with him? Of course! I was half his age and if something was not done exactly right, I got it in the ear.

He would never apologize for his outbursts per se but he did make up in his own way. Often, it was just to be there. He’d stand by me as I typed, furious with him underneath the surface, and he would try to impart the vibe that he was over his outburst and felt a tad sorry now. He never meant to have a tantrum. It was just his perfectionism; his need for control that got in the way.

He managed to create an enormous amount of anxiety in the air at times; something that I find very hard to be around. At those times, I would look into the diary and see that he had an appointment out of the office in a hour’s time perhaps and I’d hang onto that thought; that in a hour I could breathe again; in a hour I could cleanse myself from this dominant, control hungry, perfectionist dynamo.

Of course, it was not always like this. He could be quite relaxed on occasion and a bit of a devil. He liked to mimic people; to tell jokes, to sing tunes from musicals and some afternoons were really a delight. He would often call me into his office; sometimes just to collect a book from the bookshelves rather than walk around himself. “Here is your book, m’Lord,” I would say and he would smile a little sheepishly. “Why bark myself when I have a dog?” he might retort if feeling particularly cheeky. “Why indeed?” I would reply.

He liked the fact that he could get away with such things with me. I just wasn’t quick to bite and I think he liked that. It played into his desire for control that his Personal Assistant should be so independent of spirit on the inside but so controlled on the outside, I think.

What I am trying to say is that he was who he was: a dominant man: bright, able, charming, ambitious, determined. He wanted control and he controlled himself so that he could obtain control. If you were going to deal with him, and we all had to, after all, you had to recognize that fact and take the good out of the situation. Attempting to wrestle control from him was just a bad idea.

One day when he was away overseas, the Advertising Manager asked if I would be in an advertisement and I agreed. I did not ask my boss because I had a feeling that he would not agree. When he returned, he was in a rage about it and had the Advertising people can the photos. I remember being very hurt about that. At the time I figured he thought me not good enough to be in the advertising. I came to realize that if I were in the photos, it was a threat to him. Would I continue on as his Personal Assistant if I had another avenue of employment?

This was confirmed to me in later days when I asked to be transferred to the Training Department. Why on earth would I want to do that job, he asked, when I was involved with every last decision on the top level in his office? Request denied: through stupidity.

Perhaps on a sub-conscious level I am attracted to men who seek control. I have certainly been surrounded by them all my life so it must be true. It is too much of a co-incidence to not be true. I see their soft underbelly and I feel a warmth towards them. For as difficult as they can be; they can be soft and sweet. I see that. Men who seek control are complex; driven by desires they do not entirely understand themselves.

One day, late in his life, he was interviewed about his life and the interviewer asked him about a painting on the wall. He said he had bought it because it reminded him of his mother. He always spoke so endearingly of her and he told the interviewer that she was a very giving woman; that he was sorry that he had caused her so much grief.

I remember him telling me that many years after he left school he ran into some teacher of his who had been a real sadist and apparently he said to himself, “My god, I used to be so frightened of you and look at you now!”

I try to keep my eyes open now; my antenna up. I try to calm myself and soothe the beast by looking for the heart of gold; the reasons for the drive within. Perhaps, I am destined to always be “the personal assistant”.

Service

Around the blogs there is always talk about 'service' and by that people seem to mean that the submissive should serve the dominant. I have no issue with the fact that the submissive serves the dominant but in my life, the statement doesn't always mean that much. I've been contributing to the success and happiness and smooth running of my husband's life since the day we started going out. When our relationship became one of a 'power exchange', my mind began to think about that in new ways, but I was already doing lots and lots of tasks that I continued to do. Certainly, sexually, I thought about that service in new ways, but I assure you he was not the only recipient of the value of those new thoughts. I was serving him to be sure, but he has never stopped serving me in the bedroom either in terms of the satisfaction he brings to my life.

My point is that I provide service to him but in fact, he serves me rather well, too. He has been serving me well all my married life in a vast number of ways, and when the relationship altered to a 'power dynamic' the amount of service he provided for my benefit only increased. As the dominant in a power exchange, he was being asked to see me and the relationship in a new light and in that way he was being asked for more, not less.

In any marriage between two people, unless they just can't get it together at all, there is some sort of division of labor. One likes to cook; another is prepared to pay the bills. One takes responsibility for watering the garden whilst the other mows the grass. One can't bear ironing the shirts but is happy to change the sheets on the bed, or empty the dishwasher, or to service the car. Or, whatever. People work together to make their lives work smoothly for them, or they should.

In a power exchange relationship, the dominant is the boss. I have no argument to make about that nor would it suit me to think of it in any other way. The dominant person has the right to give commands and the submissive has the responsibility to obey. If he wants something done, or done in a particular way he will tell her, and expect her to follow through with the task done well.

There is some symbolic gesture to consider here and I recognize that some dominants rather like that a submissive pours the wine and serves him, first. Perhaps he (the dominant in this case) asks that she kneel and serves him tea. I think that all very fine and it no doubt assists the two people in their dynamic. But, the thought that my husband might never make me a cup of tea is just awful to me. It is always a lovely moment for me to awake from the occasional sleep in, to my husband standing by my side with a tray on which there is a cup of tea with a light breakfast. Everybody deserves to be pampered sometimes.

In the evenings, it has always been our way that I clean up the kitchen whilst my husband reads the paper or watches a current affairs story or returns to his study to do some work. Frankly, I prefer it that way because I work best in the kitchen on my own. Then, I bring him a cup of his favourite tea and a little treat and that is our time together to talk about the day, or the news, or whatever. Nowadays, I do think of that bringing of the tea to him as my serving him, because it pleases me to do so, and because I can see that he feels tenderly towards me that I have done that for him; to understand that at this time of the day he needs a little pampering.

I shall come out and say it outright. I worry like hell about the dominants out there who think that their status as the dominant means that they are somehow better than their submissive; that it is all right for the submissive to be dead tired but continue to serve him whilst he sits there like King Pubah blissfully unaware of her distress, or heaven help us, enjoying that distress. It is not at all gallant to think it is all right for the submissive to be asleep on her feet but since she is the submissive she should continue to serve. That is just not gentlemanly.

Within the power exchange, each person has their responsibilities to the other and to the relationship as a whole. Our focus is not on who serves who but rather a mutual caring for one another. My husband will insist that I take my calcium with vitamin D tablet because he knows a deficiency due to lack of sunlight can cause depression. I will take him to the station rather than leave him to walk because I know he has a full and long work day ahead and I can make a contribution to his day in this way. We care for one another within the framework of the power exchange relationship.

If I were writing the book of BDSM I would not say 'The submissive serves the dominant'. I would say, 'The submissive serves the dominant and in return, he serves her right back.'

Service

The point was recently made by Sir J that in a D/s relationship the opportunity exists for both partners to bring out the best in one another. It is an important point. In an ideal situation, not only is the dominant partner modifying and transforming the submissive to be the best person possible, both within the relationship and as an individual, but the submissive has the opportunity of modifying and transforming the dominant to be the type of dominant that will serve both their needs best.

I want to underscore that last point. Time and time again, I have read that the role of the submissive is to serve the dominant. I’ve never really felt entirely comfortable reading that statement. It seems to me that both partners are serving one another, none more than the other.

It is critical that the submissive have a dominant on which she can rely. She looks to him for her direction. He is her compass and without him to guide her, she can be quite lost. It is not that she is hopeless, useless or incompetent. Far from it. The submissive women I know are proud, bright and with a strong sense of self; competent, accomplished and more than capable. But, they are also gentle, sensitive and reliant on their dominant for their sense of wellbeing. It is one of the contradictions of D/s that these intelligent and able women require a boss; in fact, demand a boss.

They need a dominant to serve their interests; not just any dominant but a high functioning dominant who bestows all the desired qualities: wisdom, understanding, resolve, patience, strategic thinking and a steady hand. It is unacceptable that he have a fit at his submissive, regardless of whether she is ‘freaking out’ at him. His behaviour must be beyond reapproach in order for her to understand that it is her behaviour that is at question. If he can maintain control of himself he is demonstrating to her that civil and controlled behaviour is always expected and achievable.

Of course, both the dominant and the submissive are mere mortals and mistakes will be made by both of them. But, a submissive woman gains nothing from a dominant who is unable to control his emotions, as well as hers. He has the power to bring her to her knees, to silence her or correct her for her 'out of control' behaviour. She has no such power. However, she has the power to vote with her feet. She demands that her dominant be reliable, show control and exhibit exemplary behaviour. She has to believe down in her bones that the same man who may choose to cane her tush, to remind her of her place, is the same man who would protect her to the ends of the earth; who wants her to be blissfully happy; who would be the first person to cheer her victories or take her in his arms and console her when the world has done her wrong. He is her father, her brother, her lover; her best friend. He serves her well.

Becoming the best submissive; a happy and contained submissive, is not just a matter of luck. The most capable and accomplished submissive is such because she has a dominant of steady hand, noble thought and strong mind. When her dominant is the essence of strength, wisdom and humanity with her best interests at heart, it is no co-incidence that she is able to serve him with humility, honour and feminine virtue. It is her pleasure to serve with pride the man who asks more of himself than he will ever ask of her.