Why I Choose This Life
I was recently asked what it was about humiliation that turned me on and why should my Dom always come first. It was asked by someone who is trying to find their way through this crazy life. I felt that the answer needed more attention than a comment reply would allow.
The comment was about my post “She Had Forgotten“. First, I want to begin by explaining my writing. That particular story was categorized as Fact and/or Fiction. That category can be one or the other and can be a mixture of both. I have decided that I won’t share what actually happened and what just comes from my warped, depraved and very active imagination. It will be up to the reader to decide what they want to be true.
The Second thing I would like to address is the question about humiliation. I am absolutely NOT a fan of humiliation. It doesn’t turn me on in any way and I think it is mean, insensitive, unnecessary and just plain cruel. However, if you are referring to the part of that story where Sir coats her in a golden shower or has her kneel at his feet while he washes himself above her, then you need to know that I don’t identify that as humiliation. To me, humiliation would be if Sir decided to publicly make fun of the stretch marks on my belly, left from birthing his children. If he pushed me in the shower, forced me to kneel, coated me with a golden shower and forced me to remain there while he cleaned himself, I would find that to be an AMAZING expression of his love, devotion and ownership of me. Calling me a bitch, whore or slut during our sexual interactions is arousing. Calling me a stupid bitch in the grocery store would get him a swift kick in the nuts. Slapping me across the face as he reaches his body wracking orgasm is EXQUISIT! Slapping me across the face because he is pissed off is a sure fire way to get his ass shot. (And I have a VERY GOOD aim.) So, I think humiliation means different things to different people.
Finally, let me answer the question why should my Dom come first always and ever. He doesn’t. That is the simple answer. There is SO much life outside of our sexual exploits where his needs often come last. We have lived a majority of our married life as what most would consider a “vanilla” couple. We always had good sex, sometimes even GREAT sex, on a semi-regular basis with occasional mild kink thrown in to add a little spice. But NEVER too much spice. Oral sex, occasionally. Sex toys, sometimes. Anal sex, bondage, golden showers, cum on my face, multiple partners, pain…NEVER GOING HAPPEN! I came from a reserved, religious and repressed family. I know my parents had sex 3 times, producing me and my two siblings, but I am pretty sure that was it. There was no public affection, no kissing, no hugging, and no hand-holding of any kind. So many things in life were identified as “icky” like alcohol, PDA and of course, sex. So, my husband lived the life I wanted us to live for a VERY long time.
I had always been a people pleaser. I was a good mom, not the best ever, but I worked pretty damn hard to make sure my kids had everything they needed and wanted. I worked on committees, charities, and said yes to every bake sale and fundraiser for every school activity, club and sport they belonged to. I baked cookies for my husband’s work, embroidered logos and attended all politically correct events as the dutifully presented little wife. I jumped every time a family member needed anything. I was the friend that everyone called when they needed help. I was the “Good Girl” but I was unhappy and confused because I didn’t EVER get to decide what made ME happy.
Sir would probably laugh at the thought of me being unhappy about not getting to decide, because he would remember it as me making ALL the decisions. And he would be correct too. I ran the house, the kids, the money, the schedule, and absolutely EVERYTHING else. I compared life to driving a bus, I was ALWAYS DRIVING THE FUCKING BUS! And it was absolutely going to kill me.
Over the past several years, I had begun to change. I began to look at myself and what I wanted out of life. Our sex life had begun to pick up. We were making more time for us. The kids were older and we decided to start dating again. It was really nice. During this time, we had a friend that visited and confided in me about this lifestyle he was living. It was called BDSM and he described how his role as a Dominant worked and how her role as a submissive worked. My first reaction was “Good for you, but that shit will NEVER happen in this house.” After he left, I began thinking about what he had said. It rolled over and over in my head. I was so confused by the thought, yet somehow, the idea of it began to make sense and gave me a calming that I had never experienced before. Sir and I began discussing it in almost excruciating detail. I told him what I thought. He told me what he thought. We rehashed every nuance, discovering new things about each other and ourselves with every conversation. I told him my feeling about “driving the bus”. It was like a mountain had been removed from my shoulders when he so lovingly took the keys and told me that HE would be driving from now on.
So now, He has taken the lead and I choose to kneel at his feet and answer his demands. Not because I HAVE TO, but because I NEED TO. I truly enjoy the pleasure/pain/ punishment/ of our sex life. He truly enjoys the fight/adrenaline/submission/control of our intimate times. My husband and I are equals on every level and in every way. The love we share is the kind of love that fairytales and classic romances are written about. He doesn’t come first because he demands it. He comes first because he doesn’t.