it ended at home

For those of you who have not already read it, please read Mina’s post below.

When I got home, I was at the tail end of a very trying day. I had woken up exhausted. The restless night had sapped my desire to dominate, so I asked Mina to cease with her submission in her daily instructions. I needed a break, and my day would not give me one. I started by updating my Twitter account. This consisted of changing my avatar and dropping almost everyone I follow. Over the course of the day I saw the corrosive bile of peoples’ true nature dissolve the skeletons of respect I had for them. I was especially put off by the latest blue-eyed boy (yanks talk to the those who speak English if you don’t know the expression) at my office ripping off a horrible, disgusting sexist remark about a co-worker, and his desires for her. I busted his balls for it, but it still left me in a foul mood that got me reprimanded at work. This, of course, brightened my day.

As I drove home, I was turning over other events in my day that had destroyed the respect that had been the basis for one of my few other friendships, and realizing that the list of people I cared to talk to had grown shorter. So, I arrived home with a thundercloud over my head, to find Mina furiously typing away, writing the post below, and not interested in talking to me, until the post was written, and I had read it. Of course, at the time I didn’t know what she was writing, so her inattentiveness only left me in a more Gordon Ramsey-esqe state. But, then I read her post.

My problems would have to wait for a bit. Mina and I needed to talk. I asked her to join me in the kitchen as I made dinner. We started talking, still defensive, and wary. Then, the timer to the oven went off, so I went to clear off the stove so I would have a place to put the food. I then discovered that my oven does not vent out of the house, as it would in a newer home. Instead, it vents back to the cooktop. I picked up my rubber-handled frying pan, and the steel tip that had been sitting in the stream of 450-degree air pressed deeply into my palm. Most of the time I would swear in anger and throw the pan, but I set it hurriedly down, and cried out in pain. Mina instantly leaned over to see what was wrong. An angry horseshoe-shaped burn was flat on my palm. I was still numb with shock, but the sting was rising.

Suddenly, all of the pretense dropped away. Mina ran to look up how to treat such a burn as I held it under a stream of cold running water. My hand was quickly numbed by the water. As I stood hunched over the sink, the day’s frustrations finally overwhelmed me. Tears rolled out of my eyes and down my nose, dripping into the sink as I stared at my numb, red hand in the pouring water. Mina’s arm reached around me to hold me as I stared at the burnt skin that would be torturing me for the next few weeks.

And there, with the simplest artless honesty of a moment of crisis, the love between us was apparent. We spent a long time talking about all of the other things: the bastard at my office, the friend I had lost affection for. Eventually, I asked her about dominance, and our lifestyle. Once again I gave that painfully open-ended question of how do we want this to work? There is really no way to answer so broad a question, so I decided, this time, to answer it first. She was not wearing a collar, and we were clearly relating as two equals.

The honest truth is that I adore her as a submissive, and the simple acts of dominance turn me on. Going out to eat, and denying her a menu so I can order for her causes a rush of blood to the nether regions. I love being her Master. But I had also noticed her tendency to shift back into girlfriend mode at work, and leave her submission locked away, and this was not what I wanted of her. I had gotten her a public collar so she could always be my submissive, and this was what I wanted reflected in her behavior.

Having understood what I was thinking about when I asked the question, Mina could now answer. She, too, loved being a submissive, but it ran counter to her fiercely-independent nature. She has been on her own a long time, even when ostensibly in a relationship. Therefore, she knew she would make a lot of mistakes.  I responded by telling her that she would been disciplined far more often, but that I would be doing so less severely, with more spanks and fewer spankings. Also, it would inevitably become harder for her as our respective workdays kept us out of touch during the day. This I do not yet have a good answer to. I think I may need to get her a new cell phone that has reception where she works. In the meantime Twitter provide a tenuous link from her office.

The conversation done, we reverted back to some other topics as we digested this. Finally, I told her that our goals in our life as a D/s couple seemed to be very compatible. I did not need her to submit to be happy with her, but right now, if I had a choice, this is what I would want. She was agreeable. So, I asked her those special words: “Would you like me to put your collar back on?”

She smiled involuntarily as she nodded and went to retrieve her collar.

I am happy to have my submissive back.