Monday, July 30, 2007

The Practical Submissive

Thorney as submissive (domestic and personal service)

OK. My adored wife and sex toy of nearly 24 years, age 83, was badly injured (mugged) on June 3. It was pretty obvious that she was going to need to be waited on, quite literally, hand and foot, for at least two to six weeks. And it may be months before she can kneel to kiss my feet and call me "Master".

But we are a flexible couple, and it was clearly time to pull out all my male-sub fantasies and what I've read on the subject. How do I make her feel not only cared for, but loved, wanted, desirable and sexy? She loves attention and affection, and the former is easy enough - but I couldn't even kiss her badly bruised mouth, and she was pretty much bruises all over except the lower legs. (Yes, there will be an essay on foot fetishism in a later post).

And if I was going to keep me as attentive as I really do want to be, it would help to have rewards for me in it, too.

I'm extremely grateful for the essays I've read here and elsewhere on service subs, sex subs, toilet subs, foot subs, almost every variation that has gone by - as well as the scenes I remember from both good and bad porn, from the rough treatment of subs in Ann Rice's Beauty series to the gentler and more practical considerations in the wonderful guides to slave training in the "Miss Abernathy" books. I've drawn on a remarkable number of them to motivate myself and to find ways to entertain her, and me, and keep us close, loving, exploring new things. We've spent a lot of time talking about what we've done, what we might do, and even about my motivations, which I think I understand a lot better now. (More on that in a later post).

From the outset I was at her feet a lot - quite literally. She couldn't even wipe her own bottom, and much preferred having me do it in the hospital to having the nurses do it. The nurses were happy to save the labor, and the other women in the ward were obviously impressed with how attentive I was.

They watched me kneel to adjust her shoes and socks, fix the footrests on wheelchairs, and so on. - they commented to her on how much in love I
obviously was, and she bragged about her skill in having caught me. I've learned many other times I can make an excuse to be on my knees at her feet - rubbing her feet, adjusting a sock, but even things like cutting her meat (since she still isn't up to knife-and-fork) in a restaurant. I don't know how the public would react to a young healthy couple doing what we do, but she is a white-haired grandmother, obviously disabled, and I'm a bald white-bearded grandfather. People are tolerant of us and the usual reaction is "Isn't that sweet!" "Isn't that loving!", "Isn't he attentive!"

She gets to brag about how wonderfully helpful I am to her, how supportive, how much in love we are - and I feel as proud of being on my knees as the mythical Gorean slave girl whose Master is showing off her obedience and/or sexual tricks to a perfect stranger in a bar.

What are some guidelines I try to follow? I recall someone in this
newsgroup who explained how she, B, related to her dom, A.
(1) A does whatever A wants.
(2) Whenever A wants her to, B does whatever A wants.
(3) Otherwise, B does what B wants.

(3) hasn't been much of an option in the last 17 days. She needs a drink, needs help in the bathroom, needs a cushion moved, needs her chair adjusted, needs a Velcro binding adjusted so it doesn't chafe, wants skin cream on her legs or neck. There have been four trips to doctors' offices in the last 4 days, and papers to be gathered to bring to the doctors. Sleeping has been irregular most of the time - an hour or two at a time, and as likely to happen at 1 PM as at 1 AM. I'm on call whenever she wants, which is always and all hours. If I'm not in the room with her, she has an electric pushbutton for a bell - and she can use that even if there is company in the house. I run to the grocery in the half hour after she falls asleep, to be back before she wakes.

But even if I could do something during one of her naps (I mainly write these essays while she is on the phone or at her computer, a few feet away, and she can and does interrupt freely and/or ask me to read a passage), that isn't the goal. To paraphrase another member of this newsgroup: "The object isn't for her to have to give orders. If she is cold, she should turn around and find me holding her sweater. If she has to tell me to go get it, I've failed." Or to paraphrase from memory from one of the "Miss Abernathy" guides to slave training, "Wouldn't it be nice to have, not a slave who is an effort to order around, but one whose job is to study your needs and take care of them. Milk and eggs should simply appear in the refrigerator, you shouldn't have to think about making a list or about when the shopping gets done." I treasure the orders, the being wanted, my service being wanted, but I'm trying hard to develop that sort of mindfulness, that sort of knowing in advance what she wants - and when I succeed and she realizes I have succeeded, I find the feeling extremely satisfying and even erotic.

I'm feeling as valuable and as treasured and as appreciated as any slave boy or slave girl I've ever read about in books or stories or posts. I love having her brag about me to friends, even if the language has to be disguised. She says "we never believed in a fifty-fifty relationship. I give him one hundred percent of what he wants, he gives me one hundred percent of what I want." Her friends are envious, our children and grandchildren are a bit bewildered (but do agree that I'm wonderful), and I'm proud as punch.

And Mrs. Thorney is achy and uncomfortable too much of the time, but she feels loved, cared for, wanted, desired, even sexually desirable and desired - which isn't very easy to manage, when you are as banged up and hard to touch as she is.

(More to come)

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