NoOneofConsequence(dom male){Taken}
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4 years ago •
Nov 18, 2020
4 years ago •
Nov 18, 2020
As was mentioned, this very much depends on the people involved.
My late wife (as well as my submissive/slave/babygirl/masochist/best friend/et al) and I had been together for seven years when I decided that I just couldn't continue my career working the detention units and drew my retirement after a decade.
I did not immediately rush out and find another job but stayed home for a while. Ostensibly, I was attempting to get a professional writing career off the ground. But, after two hundred rejection slips for one novel alone, I mostly played computer games (Diablo II) in between re-submitting the self-help book, five novels, twenty-two short stories, and one hundred and forty-four poems once the cleaning and cooking was handled. All while she worked the career I'd pushed her to get after obtaining the college degree I'd demanded.
However...
However, I was only ever able to place six of the poems, for which payment was a free copy of the issue they were published in, and my retirement from both county and state was whittled away to nothing by the costs accrued trying to find someone to publish my stuff. And the amount that she was making monthly was not going to be enough to keep us in the style to which we'd become accustomed. (Not least because of those pesky student loans we had to pay back.)
So, I wandered out and picked up a job at a local hotel that paid a pittance compared to what I'd made working detention units for so long. Only maybe 30% what she was making. But, it was enough to keep our heads above water, so I worked it for exactly twelve months...
Until I figured out that working with the public was even worse than working with murderers, rapists, thieves...
"You need twenty-seven pillows to sleep? Well, here's an idea, princess. Next time, stay in your fuckin' castle with your twenty-seven pillows, or else pack 'em."
Yeah... I'm not really cut out for dealing with the entitled public...
Fortunately, just a couple of days later I found a job teaching at a local college. And it just so happened making more than I had at the detention units, more than she was at her career.
Personally, I didn't really care. So far as I was concerned, who made the more money mattered not at all so long as together we made enough to afford to do what we needed and wanted to the hours we weren't at work. Nor did it really matter to her, despite her mild exasperation when somehow each time she got a raise, so did I.
Fortunate, since my past when I hadn't really expected to get old, hadn't really had any desire to, and hadn't planned for it as I probably should, caught up with me. Too many closed head injuries during a checkered past they think resulting in Parkinson's with Essential Tremors and Central Pain Syndrome.
Oh, I still would have lost that particular job anyway as some sort of federal injunction was handed down and the school was shut down a few months later. But, at least I could have gone out and looked for another one...
My wife held on as long as she could... but then her checkered past caught up with her. The shotgun blast that took out her knee in the seventies, and the altered gait from the "repairs" caused her vertebrae to wear a hole in her spinal cord.
I was virtually housebound. She was virtually bedridden.
To many, this would probably seem a role reversal as I, the Master, was cooking and cleaning for both myself and my slave. I was bringing her meals, drinks, medications, helping her bathe...
But, there is more to being a Dominant and submissive or Master and slave than who brings home the bigger paycheck, who does the cleaning, who brings who a meal or a drink...
I was always the Dominant. She was always submissive.
I was always Her Master. She was always my slave.
How much money who was bringing home didn't matter. Who was doing the cooking and cleaning didn't matter.
Hell, the fact that she was thirteen years older didn't change the sheer fact that I was her Daddy and she was my babygirl.
Right up until the day she died. (Without my permission, damn it!)
But, why? How?
Because when it came right down to it, I was still the one in control. I was still the one making the decisions. Because we both wanted it that way. Because it was my pleasure to shepherd her, to husband her. And it was her pleasure to be guided and cared for by me.
Oh, not every single one. I've never been much of a micromanager. She was a smart girl. Strong. Intelligent. As capable as she was beautiful (which is sayin' something). But, when it came down to it, I was Head of Household and my decisions, my guidance, were tantamount to law.
And it didn't matter which of us was bringing home the bacon and which was frying it up in the pan.
Actually... it bothered her way more when she became bedridden and I took over what she saw as her duties than it ever did the time periods when she was the principal breadwinner for a short while. We had to have several discussions as I held her sobbing body and reassured her that it was my pride and privilege to take care of her, to do for her. To reassure her that she was still mine, and I wanted no other. Even when sex of any sort became an impossibility due to her body feeling constant pain where she wasn't numb.
I don't know, soulsearcher.
It was just never part of my perceptions that the amount of money made or who took care of household chores that needed to be done by someone had anything to do with my Dominance, with my Mastery. With my Husbandry. Nor was it that important to her (once I'd sat her down and explained to her how things were going to be). It was all about... who and what we were in our core, how we resonated with each other on a deeper level than such... superficial things.
(Although the spanking she's gonna get when I catch up to her for leaving this plane without my permission is gonna be epic...)
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