Simple pleasures (of Master & slave)

The days as Master and slave roll by unremarkable; simple days filled with simple pleasures. What then to write about when nothing is wrong, nothing needs fixing, and no new great epiphany has been uncovered?    Some  years ago a wealthy and successful song writer lamented that now that life was so good, he no longer had material for great songs.  I have become he.

But I can speak of the simple things, those little moments that as I look back on the course of the day, are beautiful little gems to be treasured.  It was an ordinary evening.  She, fresh from the farm and smelling of horses, paused on her way in the door to show worship.  Its a simple ceremony, one I enjoy and in a small way endure, because of her job and the smell that comes with it.  So for a brief moment, she is on her knees between my legs, bowed and submissive, loving her place as I love her submission.  Then its off to the shower and into something appealing to the eye to prepare a drink and supper.

This evening I had no particular desire for her to please, so my slave asked if she might play her games on Xbox.  I want to pause here and appreciate that question.  Master, if you don’t need me, may I play?   How simple a moment and yet as I reflect, how different from other life situations I have found myself in.  It is grace, and love, and submission, all wrapped up in a ball that fits me so perfectly, that meets the needs of who and what I am. That simple question causes my heart to ache.  How could I not love her for who and what she is?

Again and again, a life of pieces that fit so well.  Later, she asked if she might turn in for the night but now I was not ready to release her.  I decided on another chapter of the book we are sharing.  So I ordered another chapter be read for me, before she could turn in. She trotted off dutifully, recovered the book, curled up beside me, and proceeded to read aloud.  The chapter ended on a point that makes you wonder what will happen next, and I considered ordering another.  But I too was growing tired, and each chapter takes about a half hour, and the outcome of the next would surely end in a similar fashion, so I allowed her the release of sleep.  Hmmm as if there is ever any release.

When this thing that is my property curls up under my arm, like a kitten purring, the warmth and happiness the comes over us both, is not like some invisible force that might be imaginary, but more like a reality that can be touched and known.  This thing between us is as real as a table or chair.  How strange that it can not  be held up to another, and shown in the same way.  That you can not point to it and say “here it is, here is that thing I am talking about”.

So you see, dear readers, I have nothing to say.  It is just another day of unremarkable simple pleasures.  Real or unreal, the invisible things I possess, fill my life. Strange that in them, I am so unbearably happy.

 

I hate being told what to do

The subject is tasks, autonomy and trust.  Today’s events at work and events with my slave, made me give some thought to this.  When someone tells me to do something that I was already doing, or had planned to do, it pisses me off.  I see this in other people too.  When a person tells me to do something I was already going to do, then they can take credit for MY planning, MY work and MY accomplishments.  I don’t like it.  Nope, not one bit.

I suspect that most stypes are not going to as annoyed as I am by this, though some obviously will be. If an stype is annoyed by that, I would get it.   I personally need a certain degree of autonomy and trust when I am entrusted with a task.

Why wouldn’t some stypes feel the same?  A slave shouldn’t be treated like a robot. If you have property with intelligence and talent, you should leverage that. You should provide a bit of autonomy.  But you should also balance it with times of total control.  I often say: “Manage the mind of a slave, not the body”.  I think a slave should feel your control, your presence, in every aspect of their life.  How I  balance autonomy and control is influenced by my management preferences and my slave’s unique character and motivations.

Consensual slaves often have things that must be done… banking errands, bill payments, shopping for supplies that have run out, etc.  If I just start ordering my slaves day, without any knowledge of the plans she had tried to make, it can cause issues.  I have no problem with causing issues for her it it pleases me, but since my goal is mutual happiness, that has to be a consideration.

My own slave is curious in regard to task, trust, and autonomy.  As a slave she takes direction willingly, happily.  Like me, she too does not like being told to do something she was already planning to do.  She also tends to procrastinate.  Those three things cause conflict.  My canvas is a constant source of pleasure for the complexity her mind requires to be managed. She is an interesting study in motivation.


Having told you all of this, let me now explain HOW I manage the mind, and tasks I give to my slave, in a way that meets her motivational needs.

When I decide there is a task I want her to perform, I will set a time for when I expect it to be completed and provide instruction for any specific details I want done in an exacting manner.  I am generally reasonable about  the time to delivery but the expected completions time is key. This is the part where I show trust in her intelligence and self management skills.

When I know she will have free time, I ask what she wants to do with her free time.  What I am really asking is, are you working my tasks into the schedule?  This way I am checking up on her in a way that let’s her show pride in what she has done with the autonomy I’ve granted but I am also checking on the procrastination problem.  This let’s me feed her motivational need, while still giving me the information I need to shift to micromanaging. If I have to do that, based on her personality, it is basically a punishment.

My goal is to be completely in control of my slave, while also utilizing her brain and talents, in  way that makes us both happy.  After all, neither of us wants her to be a robot.  I think I need to say that I don’t always allow autonomy.  Sometimes I want something immediately and expect it.  This too is part of our happiness.  There are times when very strong and direct control is necessary to feel, appreciate, and enjoy just how deep the TPE runs.

So there you have it, the reflections that came about as a result of today’s events. Because I have these things thought out, the day was better for it.  It’s been yet another wonderful day as Master and slave, and life in general has been pretty awesome.  Its good to be this happy.

 

 

 

Sportsbars and Subway cars

It has been a long and glorious evening, preceded by a Friday that marked the end of yet another work week.  As I thought about this evening, its events and highlights, I decide on the title “Sports bars and Subway cars”, a slightly enigmatic bit that I will tie into later. For now though let me start at the beginning, that started with the end of my work day.

My slave dressed in a black dress, with a bit of see through here and there, and tall leather boots.  She was dressing to please me, but I was more interested, initially anyway,  in the time of our departure for a munch.  I was quite hungry and a bit annoyed at missing the time I had set for departure.  Yes, even a good slave can set into motion events not uncommon to any relation.

At arrival though, I was proud to have at my side someone so dressed.  Munches, after a few years, become common and unremarkable, yet it is also here that we gather with people with whom we often share years of experiences together.  That warmth combined with subtle undercurrents of Masters and slaves interacting and the glorious indulgences of delicious foods, makes for an evening to be appreciated upon reflection.

Ah food.  The warm textures, smells and varied flavors.  The warm and cold, the drinks, and deserts.  Food, like sex, rightly deserves to be a kink until itself.  Especially when one indulges in the quality of the experience, rather than in quantity.  But I digress.  I had a pot pie, the flaky crust mingling with vegetables and thick chunks of chicken in that creamy goodness, made all the better for the time it had taken to get to it, and the hunger I had developed.  I found myself deeply enjoying each bit, in between interesting dinner conversation.  She had a brownie for desert, heated, and covered in chocolate ice cream,  with hot fudge dizzled on top and pooled about.

So we warmed ourselves in friendship, protocols, and food.  And when it was over, we went to a Sportsbar. It occurs to me now that Sportsbars and subway cars are excellent places for those of us who observe people.  Both are filled with people caught up in the immediacy of their world at that moment, often unaware or uncaring that anyone else might observe them.

Sometimes people who are couples enter and often one is aloof while the other is caught up in love, passionate and clinging, like a satellite in orbit, drawn by the gravity of that passion. It is interesting to watch and wonder at how this came to be.  In bars, often strangers get caught up in that intensely sexual attraction.  It is interesting to observer the steady heat of sexual attraction bursting in roaring flames that neither wishes to extinguish.

I shoot eight ball.  It is just one more area that I have the opportunity to excel, to dominate.  My slave, quiet and fetching, proud to be in service to the man who is winning, and drawing his own attentions, sat and sipped her drinks.  Between shots, we toyed with each other, dancing, grinding to the music in that lovely sexually hot way that music and alcohol and dance come together.  We too were no doubt observed, because I frankly don’t care how lascivious either of us is, in fact I encourage it.

Our dynamic works well in bars.  I take the lead in projecting confidence and competence, and usually back it with an indomitable presence on the table.  I lost only one game in the course of the evening, as I recall.  And when I am not ruling the table, I am doing things that have sexual tension.  I dance with her, bending her over,  leading her into moves with a handful of hair, or a forceful push, grinding in suggestive ways.  And she responds, and comes alive in this attention.  It is strange how she can be so shy, and yet does not wither in times like this. I walk away from such evenings, feeling so alive, so fulfilled in the ways I need.  Ds is always there, just below the surface in these evenings.

So now it is time to sleep.  A full day, and a full night behind us.  I am warmed and pleased by so much. It was not special in any spectacular way, one that I no doubt won’t remember in due course, but it was an evening none-the-less, well spent.  An evening of moments that were full and rich and wonderful.  And perhaps, was observed by an observer of people.