So, you want to be a slave…

Since i was asked to share it, here is some of my advice and insights for people who want to be a live-in slave.

1. Master’s are nearly universally highly idiosyncratic people.

Seriously.  i have yet to meet a Master who doesn’t have strong opinions about toilet tissue, both the brand and the direction it “should” go on the roll.  Or, in my case, that it should not go on the roll at all, because she doesn’t like how it fits.

Get mentally used to having your previous notions about how to do things be challenged constantly.  Get prepared for the idea that there may be nothing that you are considered to be the expert in, or in charge of, or having your own special domain.  Sir Raven says the kitchen is mine, for example.  What she means by this is it is “mine” to cook in, though she may come home and decide she wants a totally different meal.  It’s mine to clean, but she approves and limits the cleaning supplies.  It’s “mine” but i can’t buy new furniture or get rid of furniture that is there or buy a toaster.  Get the idea?

2.  Be leery of Master’s who think that some person out there will match their ticker tape list of what a slave “should be.”

Sir Raven would have never put out to the Universe to get a legally bind slave, for example.  She didn’t overlook what did truly matter to her: that i was a “work horse” and looked for ways to be pleasing and accommodating.  She noted that i was always working, cheerful, and went out of my way to buy her brand of coffee and make her iced-coffee so she could get her day going in the hot Florida sun.

3.  Make sure your values and character traits match well.

That drastically limits the number of things that clash.  However, that doesn’t mean that there won’t be some surprises for both of you.  i went through a period, for example, that i desperately wanted to get legally married to Sir Raven.  In a spiritual sense, we both consider ourselves to be married, and bound by the same promises made in any wedding.  From a legal standpoint, we are domestic partners and few legal rights are associated with this.  It hurt me that Sir Raven was unwilling to even have a real conversation and to understand what my reasons for wanting a legal marriage for years.  When she did decide to hear me out, i was able to accept that she didn’t want to get married again and not take it so personally.

Obviously, it’s a major life decision and a major difference of desires.  i’m her slave, first and foremost, and always will be.  And so i have to accept.  Anything she feels pressured about is something she won’t want.  We define the word “pressure” very differently.  Asking to talk about this topic three times in three years was “pressure” to her.

Other than that, our values are closely aligned.  Sometimes, you find that out through stressful situation, times when you let each other down, and illness.  That is when you can actually assess what a person is made of.  Make sure you are the person you say you are.

Do you give up when you are sick or push yourself?  Do you feel it is acceptable to swear, yell, and loose your temper under extreme stress or are you able to work though extreme feelings without expressing them in a disrespectful manner?  Can you see that you are wrong on your own and express remorse?

4.  Learn to accept radical honesty and criticism.

Practice by asking people to critique your work honestly.  Bonus points if you choose something you think you do really well.  Trust me, your future Master will find fault and be openly critical, even of things that you think you do well or have expertise in.  Handling that kind of information with a cheerful attitude takes practice and humility.

5.  Learn self-care and soothing skills.

Meditation is wonderful, as it can be done anywhere and anytime.  Putting work into your spirituality helps too, for those times that you are exhausted in every sense and have to keep going.

6. Accept that you will experience some form of denial.

Do you like to talk through issues?  That might not be an option.  Do you like to blow of stress by taking a walk? That may not be permitted.  Whatever current ways you handle stress, pain, illness, and frustration might not be permitted.  Having a variety of ways to deal with this helps a whole lot.  Personally, i liked to walk away when i thought someone was being an Ass.  Guess what?  Your Master might be an Ass at times, for absolutely no reason, and you can’t just walk away.  As one Master liked to say, “A slave always has the last word: yes, Master.” 

7.  If you are a parent, then remember what it felt like to have a young child.  If you did not enjoy that part of parenting, You might not enjoy being a slave.

Remember the time period when you must always be “on”, where you are constantly checking and double-checking for comfort, where you had to think ahead to pack whatever might be wanted, where you had no time that was your own and lacked all feelings of privacy.  Those things are the same for me as a slave.

There is no time where i’m off duty.  i spend my time when Sir Raven is home quietly engaged in activity she approves of but am constantly listening and looking for whatever she may need before she needs it.  i think ahead to have on hand whatever she might want.  i often pack snacks in my bag for her when we will be out all day, to keep her sugar up and temper down. 🙂

i answer the phone when it’s her from the bathtub and pee with the door open.  Everything inside of the house is my responsibility so i have a constant list in my head.

8.  Learn a variety of skills, so you can be as useful as possible for your Master.

i do all of the cooking, cleaning, laundry, and errands.  i’ve also taken notes, done transcription, worked on presentations, had to participate on panels and groups, worked on my education, took notes on classes and created questions for her book discussion, worked on an essay that was published, worked on podcasts, been a sounding board, done pedicures, learned massage and reflexology, and learned to clean her boots.  i also know basic plumbing and pest control, which is always appreciated-it’s nice when the slave can at least plunge a toilet.  i can also pack and help her dress, help create meaningful rituals, and work toward creating and maintaining how she likes me to look.  i put effort into my look, learning what kinds of clothes she likes to see me in.  i put on make-up and do my hair daily.  i make the effort to look nice, smell nice, and not look haggard or exhausted, even when i am.

9.  There is absolutely nothing whatsoever wrong with being submissive, sexually submissive, a girl, or any other configuration of relationship style.

Being a slave for me is a calling, and i do this for the same reasons i wanted to be a nun as a child.  If i could be happy and feel fulfilled being in a Daddy/girl dynamic, i’d do that instead.  Frankly, it’s much easier and you have a lot more autonomy and rights.  If i was sexually submissive only, that would be easier still, and there is nothing wrong with that.  i have yet to meet a real life “pleasure slave.”  You know why?  Because Masters are not independently wealthy and able to afford so many slaves that one can be devoted to just fucking and sucking.  Someone has to clean that kitchen and scrub the toilet every day.  In our case, my Master would get bored pretty damn fast anyone with someone who was around just for her sexual gratification.  She wants a geisha-like companion, a person who can hold a conversation and she’d expect at least that from anyone she’d fuck.

My point is that there is no wrong way to form a relationship and there isn’t any kind of hierarchy that places “slave” at the top of an imaginary totem pole.  If anything, if there was a totem pole, i’d place being myself lower.  i’m more flexible and willing to bend, more amenable to doing way more than my share of work, and less interested in having things go my way (if i even have one) than most people.  In any given group, i more likely to be submissive, passive, interested in making everyone feel good and welcomed.  i literally can’t make a decision until i know what everyone else’s needs and wants are, much to my Master’s chagrin at times.  i am here to be made use of, to be a vessel, to be a blank canvas she can write on, and a statute she will break through to discover.  i am here to be a cook, maid, valet, errand girl, sexual object, Priestess, geisha, and anything else Sir Raven desires.  That means i cannot provide some other things she desires because she wants it, but not from me.  For this reason alone, i value other dynamic styles.  There is no right way, other than the way that fulfills and creates growth, love, acceptance, and pride.

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Working through it

i am feeling a bit on the edge today.

Sir Raven often makes comments like last night, where she told me she was waiting on an important call, and if she wasn’t that she’d have her dick in my mouth.  i was thinking what i’m always thinking when she says things like that: why don’t we? In this case, after the phone call.  Last night, i was a total asshole and voiced it, along with my frustration at how long it’s been, about how i hate never knowing how long it will be until the next scene or fucking. i wasn’t an asshole in how i said it.  i was respectful, calm in tone, reasonable, vulnerable.  i told her that i missed her, missed that part of us.  In this relationship, however, to ask to make love, gain attention, have s/m when i want to, at all is wrong.   i went into the bedroom to basically hide after that, coming out to apologize for asking for sex, for asking her to tell me she finds me desirable, for the ache inside, for wanting.  i know she does desire me, find me sexy and beautiful and loves me.  i shouldn’t be petty enough to want her to say the words.

i spent most of my life raising kids and always imagined that one day i’d have a giddy freedom to fuck, to suck, to scene with abandon.  Mostly, i thought about S/m, because that is much, much more important to me than sex.

i had always used my feminine wiles to instigate sex and s/m before her.  i had never thought of that as being controlling in any manner.  It made me feel desirable, attractive, wanted, beautiful, creative.  It made me feel Femme.

i enjoyed it, the ease of starting that first deep kiss.  The ease of crawling into a lap.  The ease of creating longing for more.

At any invitation on my part, the Butches in my life felt more Butch.

i’ve had three years to accept that it doesn’t work that way here.  i can’t seduce her.  Not for sex.  Not for s/m.

i don’t know how.

In the process, i’ve lost a huge part of myself.  A part of feeling like a desired object, a femme joy, a sense of womanliness, feelings of beauty.

In my first Butch/femme relationship, i learned how to wield sex like a weapon.  i was so livid at the constant physical abuse, the broken dishes, the hysterics, the shame, that i was cruel in return.  i didn’t see it that way then.  i was prideful, haughty, and determined.  i’d grind my ass and clit into her crotch, sitting on her lap facing her,  and watch her eyes gleam and then coldly tell her that she’d have to rape me to get it.  It was the only thing she hadn’t done to that point.  And a hard limit for her, seeing as she had been raped in life too, and much as she wanted to throw me to the floor and rape me, she couldn’t.  i’d watch it play over her face, her desires, her darkness.

i was playing with fire, and like all fires, you eventually get burned.

When my mother kept in contact with her for five years, led me to isolation, and left me there with Dawn-the first thing she told me was that i’d never again deny her.  She held me down by the throat, something else was in her eyes, something deadly.  She had five years, i suppose, to make peace with her demons and decide she could live with raping me after all.

i couldn’t fault her.  Not really.  i had done this to myself.  We both needed the release, from the constant tension.  i learned how to force myself to relax.  i learned how to get it done.  i learned it wasn’t my body or my choice.  And when i learned that lesson thoroughly, the need to rape me softened a bit.  She stopped beating me with a belt first for awhile though she had linked that pain to force.  And my body responds to force, to fear.

Now, i am in the opposite experience.  Sir Raven doesn’t experience me sexually like an object to rut in.  She already knows that i won’t ever deny her advances of any kind, be it s/m or sex, so there is no need to touch the dark underbelly.  She would say that isn’t there.  i know what i’m looking at when i see it.  i accept all dark parts of her, equally.

It’s harder to accept that i can do nothing to influence neither pain nor pleasure.

With Dawn, i’d sometimes feel that familiar tightness in my chest, that sense that danger is looming, and i’d head it off at the pass.  i was required to confess any thought against her, any thought against her known desires.  A divided house can not stand.  A group with two different wants has two different leaders. That cannot be.   My job was then, as now, to passively accept what is offered.

It is ingrained too deeply, that different wants and needs should be abolished.  i experience shame when i want something Sir Raven does not want.  The safety valve i was given before her was a belt beating, which let me get the emotions out.

In a world of physical denial, lack of stimulation, it was one thing i could count on: Confession.  Beating. Tears. Forgiveness.

The other day, i was watching a documentary on solitary confinement.  The prisoner was begging to be maced.  i understood the raw desire to feel anything, any connection, be able to to release shame and anger, to have a moment where there is something besides denial.

It was like me, begging for the strap, needing to let go into something.

It takes huge reserves of self-control to always have a pleasant demeanor, to always be cheerful and eager, to always bend to whatever she wants.  A lot of the time, that means i need to find something quiet to do.  i make sure her water and wine glass stay full, that the ashtrays are dumped, the house is clean, the meal is hot and delicious.  Otherwise, i am unobtrusive.

i am quiet. i am passive.  She sets the tone for everything: when we eat, what we eat, if we talk, how long we talk, if we touch or if i am to be grateful for our evening embrace.  i look for gratitude and find it easily.

i have no idea why i rise up against her and ask for more.  i wish i could accept, once and for all, that i am safe in this world and that wanting more leads to less.  Today, i will embrace denial.  Today, i will humbly accept what is offered.

Hold it

This is my list for today:

Take out recycling and garbage.

Clean out frig.
Scrub stovetop and hutch.
Dust bedroom
Sort Laundry.
Sweep/mop house.
scrub bathtub, walls.
Buy:
creamer, avacodo, smokes, wine
Laundry
Email:
Check school emails
Dinah
Yingtai
FAFSA
i was working along on my list, having sent it to Sir Raven.  i’m tired today and in a strange, uncharacteristic mood.  i cleaned and worked up my list from 9-2:30, when i heard the chimes on the door.  Startled, i went to take Sir Raven’s coat and get her a class of cranberry juice.  i was happy to see her.  i’m always happy when she is home, in part because i feel peaceful knowing she is safe in the house and in direct control.
i asked her if i could go take a late nap and she agreed to wake me in an hour so i could continue to charge my cell phone.  i had enjoyed talking to Karida, hugging over the phone, and mentally crossing off my list.  But now i was tired, had taken my meds late, and needed to nap.
i was frustrated in the dark, cold room.  i couldn’t sleep and thought that if i could cum, that might help.  i feel like i need to cry and at least having an orgasm is a kind of release.  Unfortunately, it eludes me.  There are times i can’t climax at all without penetration.  My body just won’t do it.  It was something trained in with a program that won’t rewrite completely.  It’s not really a bad thing because it reminds me that my body isn’t mine.
Sir Raven graciously beat the shit out of me yesterday, stopping before tears, but we were inching close to that territory.  She placed a short rod in between my knees and made me hold in i place while the ruthlessly raised welts all over me with her whip.  i dropped it only one time.  She encouraged me by way of moving my body how she wanted it, replacing the rod, and beating me some more.  My inner thighs and ass are her sweet spots, the places she loves to torture the most.  i could feel deep bruises forming, and had to breathe deeply as the beating continued.  It was a white-knuckle affair, though Sir Raven did offer me a bit of a warm-up, which i declined.  She would bark, “hold it” and my body would betray me and do as she said, while one part of me was desperate to move away, to crawl into the wall, to protect my face, my head.
My dispassionate observer remarked on my useless desire to escape, knowing it would never occur to me to even try to leave the bed.  i’m here because i need to be, not because i always want it.  i will prove this with my body, keeping each new pose, swallowing her dick with reckless abandon, whimpering each time she withdraws.  There is a sheer joy in my Master’s voice as she beats me harder and faster, two canes at once, and i still hold my position.  “Hold it,” she would demand.  Then, she would ramp up the pain, ripping at my nipple, grabbing my up by the collar and dragging me where she wanted me to be.  The whip found my tender clit many times, leading me to foolishly believe i might get fucked.  Sir Raven doesn’t brutalize me there unless she plans to take what is hers.  Today, she is not interested in that pleasure.  And there is not one damn thing i can do about that.  Emotionally, psychologically, this feels right.  Physically, my body begs for release and it’s not something i can do for myself right now.  i need what i can’t have.
i remember hearing a long, low, continuous moan and realizing it was me.
i had rode through the pain, in part to hear the pleasure in her voice and she tried to make me drop the rod now in between my knees, giving her easy access to every part of me.  “Yes!” she would call out when i held my pose through sheer will.
This is not about me.
Today, my jeans rub welts in many places.  Bruises that make me smile.  i feel pride, but only the smallest amount.  We need more of this so we can get to Bad Daddy.  Bad Daddy doesn’t give a fuck how loud i scream, beg, plead, cry.  Those are his drugs, his playthings.  She has to build up to that.  Yesterday felt so good, so right.  The last thing i’d ever want to do s to have her think i wasn’t grateful for any attention she gives me.
My body still begs to come and still can’t.  i’m frustrated and unable to sleep.  i try to talk to Sir Raven, who returns to watching Bones, disinterested.  She says i should do the laundry tomorrow and has already noted the rest of my list in complete.
i plod back to the bedroom, put clean sheets on the bed, light candles, and come here to exhale.
There are tears inside, something like anger, but without a name.
There is nothing i can do but be pleasant, accommodating, cheerful.
i hold it til i think i might burst.  i tell her i forget she wants me, loves fucking me, thinks i’m beautiful.
She sends me off to her bed, alone.

Anxiety girl

Sir Raven and i enjoyed her vacation week at home.  i absolutely love having her here.  We watched shows on HGTV and both coveted a lovely house on an island about 45 minutes from Seattle, where you could see nothing but trees and water from every room.  You know you are an introvert in love when you actively desire being alone on an island with only one person.  Heh. (Okay so more than just us would have lived on the island but we could pretend there).

We went shopping.  My only pair of jeans had ripped to the point of being unladylike and Sir Raven bought me two new pairs of jeans, four pairs of legging so i can wear my dresses on days the jeans are too much.  She also actually went into the clearance department with me (shocking for her!) and found a nice sweater dress and top.  It was really our best shopping trip since we couldn’t rush in and out of the store.

The goodliest Master planned a lunch and dinner date with friends for the same day.  We enjoyed our lunch date so much that he joined us for dinner.  M/s people are lovely that way.  🙂  Plus, there wasn’t time to go home in between, so we shopped and just enjoyed each other’s company.  We sat outside and people-watched.  She treated me to Starbucks and my favorite candy, in part to keep me pepped up and able to withstand the long hours and muscle relaxers.  It did the trick nicely.

Sir Raven allowed me lots of treats that i don’t normally get: extra coffee, soda (!), and i ate cake for dinner on Valentine’s Day.  Heh.

i’m trying to get back to life without her, without my life being checking on her all day, to keep her happy and fed, to give her company when she wants it and retreat into the background in silence when it isn’t wanted.

Rather predictably, i felt quite a bit of anxiety on Tuesday without her at home.

For one thing, my pain levels wouldn’t come down, and that can cause anxiety.  i found out that i will have to get a new phone and remembered that i had video taped my grandmother on my old cell.  i had to charge it all day, only to discover that it isn’t on the phone.  i really wanted to hear her voice, even though i can hear her in my mind.  i also rubbed my thumb over the dents in the case, remembering how that happened when the phone and i went through a coffee table together.

And then i felt anxiety about feeling anxiety.  Heh.

i tried to meditate, which helped, until i was calm enough for memories to surface, just things i haven’t thought of in decades.  And then i turned to a feeding frenzy, where i devoured a still frozen ice cream cake.  Then i just felt guilty because it wasn’t right to do that, especially when Sir Raven had just been so generous with me.

By the time she came home, the house was very very clean and i was a lot better, other than the pain.  It must have been quite obvious by that night because she sent me to bed soon after she arrived home.  i had opened my mouth to protest that i could finish the night with her, make her meal and so on, but i wisely shut it and got into bed instead.

Wednesday came and went with more pain, and i spent a large part of the afternoon and evening in bed, watching, “Orange is the New Black” on Netflix.  Sir Raven’s house was clean, the laundry finished and put away, and chilli cooked first.  i spent the last two nights in pain bad enough that i was crying myself to sleep.  i hoped Sir Raven would think it was just the bad eye “leaking” as we call it.  i think she knew the truth because every time i woke up, she was curled up tight into me.  Sometimes, she loves me in ways that leave me breathless.  Wordless.  How do you ever thank someone for that?!

Today, i got all of the groceries that we did not need in bulk from BJs and picked up my new medicine from the pharmacy.  The house is clean and i can smell the pepper steak slow cooking for dinner from our bedroom.  i went through my school email and wrote letters for school, along with emailing my doctor’s note.

i really appreciate that Sir Raven took time in her busy day to copy a page for me and that she told me that receiving a list daily matters to her.  Sometimes, like today, she will add something (call and set up my MRI).  Other days, she will tell me i’m doing too much and will take something off.  Yesterday, she tried to do just that by picking up some medicine for me.  Unfortunately, the new medicine wasn’t ready so i had to go back today.

Today was so cold and windy that everything took twice as long as it should have.  The bus was late each way.  The police were busy trying to catch people who didn’t pay for the ride.  The officer told us to wait, but never told me to move, so i almost missed that bus on the way home.  To add to the embarrassment, my eyes were both “leaking” which looks like i’m crying and my arms were full so i couldn’t do anything about it.

i can’t wait for Sir Raven to come home and i also can’t wait for Sunday.  i’ve practically begged for Bad Daddy to make an appearance-it’s been months since we connected in that primal kind of way and i’m needing it.

Happy un-Valentines day!

Yesterday the girl and I went food shopping at BJs it was a hot mess. But I figured the rest of the world would be doing that other shit that we would be spared the madness. But no, the place was packed, with children and selfish people who think they don’t have to watch where they are going, Usually when we go I can let the girl go and get things while I get other things, but not yesterday. So here is something that folks may not know about me, I’m a little controlling. 🙂 But really what’s going on with me is that I’m blocking her from being hit or bumped, I keep her near me so that I can navigate for her. Most times it’s a real inconvenience for me, because it means I’m bumping into things, but it’s what I do. I’m always looking to see how she is doing on pain by the look on her face and how much she is biting her lip.

Any who, yesterday was a clusterfuck, but we got it done. I was glad we were able to get in the car and take a breath away from the crowd. That Zipcar is the best investment I made, and yes I did it so the girl didn’t have to ride the train and lug groceries from 4 train stops and a bus ride away to get good quality food for us. I went to return the car, while she put the food away and when I got back I had my un-valentines day presents. It so sweet of her to do this and I my present is so crafty. I love crafty things, she put a lot of work into making it.

It’s a nice way to end my time from work, she’s the bestest!

Sorry

i say, “i’m sorry” very often.  i am, be design, a passive communicator.  i’ve tried, over the years, to be assertive but the truth is that people respond to this as if i’m a raging bitch because they are so used to my passive style that it feels bad to the person hearing it.  This has made me even more passive.

The more upset i am, the more passive i become.

The more physical pain i am in, the more passive i become.

Recently, Sir Raven and i shared a lovely meal with another Master, who cooked for us.  As a slave who cooks every day, it feels rather luxurious to have someone else cook, even if it does feel strange to sit and do nothing.  i was fairly relieved when the meal was over and i had a chance to do anything remotely productive.  i washed the dishes, wiped down the counter tops and stove, wiped down the microwave, and swept the floor.  Turning to the table, Sir Raven handed me the hot sauce to put away, and i didn’t know where they went.  i’m a guest in this house.  Thankfully, the Master is a structured person. so it was really easy for me to look in the most obvious place to locate what i needed without having to ask.  The hot sauce though presented an issue, and i was upset that i had to be a bother and ask where it went.  When i asked, i said, “i’m sorry that i don’t know where this goes.  Could you show me, please?”

The Master said that i shouldn’t say, “I’m sorry.”  That there was nothing to be sorry about.  That it made it seem as if i didn’t have my own mind.

And i thought, i don’t have my own mind; i have the mind i was given.

For the most part, this is true.  Whatever natural default settings i might have ever had for most things is nonexistent.  Hell, i was in my mid-twenties and had owned two homes of my own before it occurred to me that i actually hated the smell of pine-sol and could stop using it as the main cleaning agent in the house.  My mother loved the smell and i cleaned her bathroom and the kitchen daily.  The whole damn house reeked.  i was convinced that i loved the smell too.  i was using it even when we lived in other states.  The idea that i could just stop, the idea that i actually hated the smell, was so foreign i just stood in the middle of my kitchen in shock.

Those kinds of events, where i know i have my own mind, are pretty rare.  i’m more aware of issues around sensory overload, so i might have a huge issue is Sir Raven wanted to paint the walls neon pink.  But if it wasn’t something that was going to cause a problem with my service, i might not even notice.  i might not care if i do notice.  It isn’t very relevant to me, my own thoughts, wants, preferences.

To that end, i am sorry when something gets in the way of me bending gracefully.  Of me being able to silently complete a task.  When i walk into things and it draws attention to me.  When something happens-even the weather-and i can’t do a damn thing to change it for people i care about.

i thought about what the Master said, considering it seriously for several days.  When i told Sir Raven that what i really had was the mind i was given, she understood exactly what i was saying.  Sir Raven doesn’t like it when i say, “i’m sorry” and she thinks i shouldn’t be sorry.  The reason she doesn’t like it is that to her, it looks like i’m responding to life like an abuse victim.

My mother had the same issue with me holding my shoulders high and tight, like i was always waiting to be hit.  No matter that i was always waiting to be hit some days.  i shouldn’t look that way.  She had to teach me to hold my shoulders back, my head high, and to move through the world like i owned the space when i need to.  Trust me, in a hospital, no one gets in my way.  i will get to my loved one’s-period.  i can affect a take-no-shit attitude when i need to.  But it drains me, i have to shut down parts of myself to do it.  Even not holding my body in a rigid way is a practiced behavior, practiced until it felt more normal.

My mother tried to mess with the “i’m sorry” thing.  She ended up getting angry more often, broke my nose, hitting me with anything she could find (No wire hangers! ha ha!).  It reinforced the concept that i damn well should be sorry, should be passive, should communicate passively unless i am being paid to do otherwise.

Sir Raven tried to mess with the “i’m sorry” thing too.

What she found was that barking angrily at me made me silent, because all i could think of to say was, “i’m sorry” and i became so nervous and upset at not being right that my shoulders went up in defeat.  She deduced that this was worse, and left me alone.

Like it or not, i am sorry when i can’t create what it needed, wanted, expected, wished for.  Even if it’s not my fault, or was an accident.  Communication has to be honest and it can’t be if i’m monitoring every single word.

You say tomato, i say micromanagement

If you asked Sir Raven, she would say that she hates the idea of micromanagement.  If you asked me, i’d say she does micromanage and that she likes it.  What she does not like would be if she followed me around, looking obsessively to see if i am following her ways.  i think that is a part of her concept of micromanagement but it isn’t a part of mine.

What really happens is this:

She once noted that in her estimation i had too many bottles of cleaning supplies.  i confess, i have a tremendous fondness for cleaning supplies of all kinds.  She limited the number to five.

She once noted that she wanted me to sweep the floors in this order: bedroom, bathroom, livingroom, entry, kitchen.  So this is how i do it every day.

She once said i should dust the bedroom one day and the livingroom another day because of how long it takes with All The Things she has.  She didn’t like me basically spending a whole morning dusting and wiping walls.  So that is how i do it.

She said one time that she does not like dishes in her sink.  Except on Sunday’s that she will sometimes allot for movies in bed, where i have a bit more latitude.

i do laundry two days a week because she does not want me carrying more than one heavy bag of laundry at a time.

When i do the laundry, i may only use Tide, Bounce, and Oxyclean.  Once i thought the rule was only about name brand items and purchased a close-out bottle of Gain.  She was very unhappy, even when i insisted i’d use it only for the little rugs we have.  She said it should never happen again.  It hasn’t.

So, from her perspective, she doesn’t micromanage because she will tell me something once, and i’ll do my best to follow it faithfully.

She isn’t following me around or watching me clean.  Indeed, when she is home, i make special efforts to wait for her to go to her desk or bed before i do certain jobs, just because while she wants it clean she doesn’t want to watch me running about all day.

Every morning, i serve coffee and bring her water and her vitamin.  i gather her water glass from the bedside, empty coffee mugs, and other dishes to wash.  i dump and wash all ashtrays.  i put away the clean dishes from the night before. i make the bed.  Shower. Makeup. Clean the bathroom.  Sweep and mop the house.

Then i work on my afternoon chores: errands, shopping, laundry, dinner prep.

My evening chores are: cook and serve dinner, wash up, sweep the kitchen, dump ashtrays and keep her water glass full, turn off all lights, make sure the door is locked, bring her water for her bedside.

In between all of that, i work on homework, read, sit quietly and do puzzles, watch tv, take my daily nap, tend the house Altars, meditate, and work on whatever other projects we might have going on.

Sir Raven sets the tone for conversation-or not-every day.  She decides what we watch on tv, where we will go, and gives or denies permission for me to go anywhere besides the laundry mat, grocery store, and to get her wine.  i don’t do anything different without explicit permission.  i don’t buy anything different without her permission.  i don’t give out my email or cell number or spend extra money without permission.  i turn in my grades and instructor comments as i receive them.  i wear clothes and shoes and make up that she chose.  i take medicine she decided on.  i see doctors she approves of.  i only have friends that she approves of and they are all M/s.

i look for ways to please, to bend to what she wants, and carefully control my energy to keep it small and quiet.  Most of the time, it’s just the two of us, and i love that.  Sometimes i struggle hard because i get excited around different people and am so acclimated to isolation that being around people is highly stimulating.  i don’t always get myself under control fast enough and Sir Raven reins me back in.  This morning, i’m going to spend some quiet time in extra meditation, because we are going to be out all day and around friends.  So it’s another opportunity for me to try and not be too excited and talk too much or not enough.  It’s hard, because i spend a lot of time silent with her.  You’d never know from how much i talk around people.  Heh.