I hate visiting my parents. They’re extremely right-wing, my mom gets drunk and emotionally abusive, my dad seems to think I’m 27 and don’t know how to open a goddamn window. They just want to bogart my children and pretend they’re parents again. My dad wants to question EVERY SINGLE DECISION we make about how to raise them until I finally remind him that he had his chance to raise children 27 and 23 years ago, that he did not participate in the creation OR raising of MY children, and that he kindly needs to fuck off in a direction opposite of mine.
But this time was BAD. It involved a plane right (two kids under 4.) It involved sleep deprivation, and the only way we were able to solve that issue was to have both kids sleep with us in the same bedroom.
The three year old kicked and scratched and cried until we finally came up with the brilliant idea of having her sleep on a makeshift pad on the floor. The baby wouldn’t sleep for more than two hours at a time. We were exhausted, just wanted to sleep, and there was no way we would be having sexy times. At all.
Around day 3, I realized that I missed my Master. I had my husband there with me. And he was exceptionally hands-on. He was relieving a lot of my stress, and there to talk strategy in getting away from these awful people. (Did I mention that we only see these people twice a year?)
But there were no spankings. No floggers or riding crops.
There were no cuffs or ropes.
There was no candle wax.
There was no sex. No hair-pulling. No choking. No biting or pinching.
There was no kneeling. No crawling. No sleeping naked, that’s for damn sure.
When we did cuddle, I would immediately pass out. My energy, my life force, was drained from me. He wasn’t Master, he was just my wonderful, sweet husband. But I could feel the something missing. And I knew immediately what it was.
The night after we got back, we were ALL. OVER. each other. I was still having my special lady time, so we had to do anal. But it was incredible, as always. It made me really think about our dynamic. How badly I need it. How empty I feel without it.
Last night, we did not have sex. I was too tired. I received thirty VERY hard spankings. I was panting and wiped by then. Master laid my head in his lap afterward and just stroked my hair. He asked me if I felt like his submissive right then. I answered immediately, yes. And it was true. We weren’t doing anything differently than we would have done at my parents’ house (except that it was post-spanking.) But without words, without an elaborate scene, with absolutely none of the trimmings and trappings that come with a dungeon, there we were. A Master and his sub, just cuddling. Just enjoying being next to each other.
I drifted off to sleep. He gently woke me to tell me I could roll over onto my pillow. And I went right back to sleep after a few whispered “I love you”s.
Last night cemented what I’ve been thinking all along. BDSM, particularly D/s, are all about the mindset. I’m His submissive whenever I place myself in that headspace. It has absolutely nothing to do with what we’re doing.
And I can’t wait to try it out. Cooking for Master. Folding laundry for Master. Taking care of the kids for Master. It isn’t even about the sex. It’s about the intimacy and that deep connection.