Me: Hey, honey, can we talk? I read a book. Turns out there is a name for people like me.
Future Domly One: Uncompromising Control Freak?
Me: No, I’m a submissive.
Me: Ummm, when you are done laughing, we can continue this conversation.
Two days later ....
Future Domly One: Oh, you’re serious. Please continue.
Me: Okay, you know how I hate pain, hate to be called filthy names and absolutely must make every decision? Well, scratch that.*
Future Domly One: looks confused
Me: I believe you are a dominant. You show all of the signs with everything you do. Could you now spank my ass, beat me, call me slut, use me for whatever needs strikes you at the moment and take the control of us away from me?
Future Domly One: ears perk up Hell, yes! I’m in!
Implementing this wonderful world of sexual discovery and exploration has been something of a challenge, made even more complex by the fact that we felt the need to procreate before realizing we are insatiable, sex freaks.
Alas, the difficulties we faced were heretofore unforseen.
The first being getting him to actually spank me! Not that he didn’t want to, but the sound carried through our tiled filled home in such a way that the Domly One was very concerned about younger ears hearing our escapades. We overcame this by learning that our closet is practically soundproof 6th paragraph down.
Our next difficulty was my sound. There, I said it, I’m a screamer. I’m a loud, screamer. This was dealt with in previous years by the Domly One placing a pillow over my face. Now, I find that the curse I avoided in my younger days has become my norm; sex in the car. It is one place I can be as loud as I’d like.
The issue we currently face is that nasty bastard: Reality.
In the visions and dreams posted online, there are things called “scenes” which require “planning” with the added benefit of “anticipation” and “aftercare.” Why do I put quotations around these terms? Because they are more elusive in parenthood/marriage than the oft disputed existence of the spotted zebra.
Here is how these things work for us ....
Domly One: Kids went to their science meeting. We have 45 minutes!
Me: run frantically to the room and strip.
Domly One: Yes, my slut, you like it when I beat your ass, don’t you?
Me: Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.
Did you remember to get milk on your way home? The kids will need it for breakfast in the morning.
Domly One: Damn, I forgot. I’ll get it in the morning before I leave for work.
You do NOT have permission to cum. Do you understand?
Me: Yes, Sir. I understand
Your work shirts are ironed so you should be able to get to the store and back.
Domly One: You are so fucking wet! Are you wet for me, little whore?
Me: Yes, Sir. Please Sir, I’m close.
hear noise at the door
Could you go let the cat out?
Domly One leaves me tied to the bed and lets the cat out.
Domly One: ** You’re going to suck me, my cock whore.**
Me: Please, Sir, please. I need your cock!
Were you able to explain the math homework to they youngest kid?
Domly One: Yes, it was really simple, pre-algebra. He’ll do fine on the test.
I love that eager mouth of yours. Beg me, slut.
Me: Please, fuck me! Please!
Domly One: smacks my ass hard, grabs my nipples and twists, f***s me so hard we are back to stuffing a pillow in my face.
Domly One: Cum, slut, cum now!
We: mutual orgasm. breathing slows
Teenager: “Hey, I’m home. Football practice went late. Is there any food?”
These are our daily lives. Our “scenes” are stolen moments of frantic need for each other while still balancing the needs of the family. Our “planning” is whatever the Domly One can fit into the allotted time. Our “anticipation” is knowing that we connect this way daily. Our “aftercare” is laughing at how close we came to being caught.
Living 24/7 isn’t all hot wax, sexy lingerie, ropes and whips I had originally imagined. But, at least now, I don’t think I’ll be suffering from empty-nest syndrome. 2123 days .... more or less ...but who’s counting?
