skyrich(dom male){rottenbrat} |
4 years ago •
Mar 27, 2020
The Journey
4 years ago •
Mar 27, 2020
skyrich(dom male){rottenbrat} • Mar 27, 2020
This post is in response to the following:
MeisterGerald​ wrote: Perhaps you can speak to the timeline, negotiations, and experience level it takes to achieve good 24/7 IRL TPE, SkyRich?
The foregoing is an account of the journey that De and I took over a period of 20 years, developing our real life, (RL), total power exchange, (TPE), 24/7, 365 relationship. My standard disclaimer applies, which I'll repeat: I'm writing this from the perspective and world-view of an alpha male hetero dominant, in a TPE 24/7 RL live-in relationship. If that's not your reality, that's OK. Your mileage may vary. I don't mean to disparage any other lifestyle and I'm not saying this is the "Right Way(tm)" for everyone, so please don't take it that way. This is going to be a long one, (as I said 20 years), so pull up a chair, grab a drink, and let's dive in. Some Definitions I'm providing these as a service for those who may be unfamiliar with the terms, but also as clarification of what they me to me. IRL or RL - In Real Life: A relationship in the real world, with real consequences, not online, not a "scene", not acting, and not a game. 24/7, 365: Exactly what it sounds like. All the time, not just in bed, not just for sex or kink. Every moment, of every day. TPE - Total Power Exchange: A relationship wherein she knowingly and willinging gives up her free will, letting it be swallowed up in his will, in order to form a bond so complete that she is unable to break it by herself. She is a slave, property, chattel; he is her master in all things, not just for sex, or kink. If this sounds scary -- you are right, it is. TPE is not something to be taken lightly, nor trivially. And that is one reason why I'm writing this. It's critical to understand that she gives up her will, not her intelligence. She is neither doormat, nor automoton. She thinks for herself, doesn't just sit around waiting to be commanded. She is his property, but that doesn't mean she lacks value, or virtue. She is not a punching-bag to be abused. She is precious to him, loved and cherished by him; she loves and adores him. Think of the "old-fashioned" wedding vows, wherein he vows to "love, honor and cherish", while she vows: "love, honor and obey." See also Ephesians 5:22, "Wives submit to your husbands..." This is not at all an abusive relationship, however it is fraught with pitfalls, danger, and with incorrect intentions, or inexperience would well and easily become abusive. "Beware all ye who enter in, there be squals ahead!" HNG - Horny 'Net Geek: Also known as "insta-dom". An insincere, abusive toad who preys on submissives in order to scam them out of money, naked pictures or think that because a girl is submissive, she must submit to him without any effort his part or trust on hers. They are parasites and they disgust me. I won't be mentioning them further in this post. But, since I'm defining terms, I thought I'd throw that one in too. The Beginning De and I "met" virtually in an online forum not dissimilar from this one, a Gorean philosophy and lifestyle discussion board. I was not, at the time, looking for a girl. I was happily married, and I'm a one-girl-at-a-time kind of guy. I was a dominant in my marriage, and she was an experienced submissive. I had posted several essays on many subjects including lifestyle, quantum physics, politics, ad infinitum. She had been reading them, thus getting to know me, at least as much as is possible given those limitations. She butted in on a discussion concerning gun control. For the record: I'm a life member of the NRA; she argued that humans aren't evolved enough to handle such lethal force. I sent her a private message to tell her that I found her argument well-structured, but lacking in some facts. I had no idea I'd made her day by showing her such slight attention. Yes, she knew I was married, and wasn't interested in butting into that. Over the course of 5 years, we exchanged email addresses, and phone numbers. We conversed on many topics, ranging from ancient history to modern politics, to many branches of science, religion, and philosophy. My wife was party to these conversations, got to know De; they became good friends. The Disaster My wife was a diabetic. Her insulin pump malfunctioned, and overdosed her in the middle of the night. When morning came, I couldn't wake her, she was in a coma. I'll not go into much here save to say that she had significant brain damage, which altered her personality; her behaviors became self-destructive. For 3 years, I got her the best help I could, including neuro-cognitive retraining, De came out to help for a few weeks. But, the damage was too extensive, and she succumbed to another coma, this time fatal. I was heart-broken, devastated, and alone -- seriously contemplating shoving a K-Bar in between my fourth and fifth intercostal space. Meanwhile, De's life had fallen apart. she was unable to get a student loan to continue her medical career, and couldn't find her personal medical records, to prove that she'd been vaccinated. The medical school refused her entry that semester. On top of that, her boyfriend, (a self-proclaimed "master"), was abusive; she'd left him and was living on a friend's couch. The Recovery I invited De to come and live with me. I had plenty of spare bedrooms, and I needed the company. I put her under my insurance, got her the needed vaccinations, and later on helped get her financing for her medical training, including paying for everything that she couldn't finance. Keep in mind that at this time, we'd known each other for 8 or nine years, and there was a high degree of trust on both sides. This was the gesture of one friend to another. I knew that she was attracted to me, and I was extremely fond of her as well, but at this time we were not in love. She began performing little acts of service: cleaning the house, organizing my files, cooking meals, (my god she was an incredible cook), having an ice-cold dirty-vodka martini ready for me when I got home from work. Our relationship slowly shifted from good friends to something more. It was time for "The Discussion" The Discussion We sat down, and formally talked about what was happening between us, what we each wanted out of life, and our relationship. We discussed boundaries, limits, desires and expectations in depth, with total unbridled honesty. For the record TPE doesn't work without such discussions in frank honesty. At one point during the discussion, she walked over to me, tenderly took my hand, and pressed it to her cheek. She then took off her clothes, and knelt before me, sobbing her heart out, saying that she could no longer deny herself; what she was to me. This simple, honest discussion and her overt act of submission changed our relationship fundamentally, and permanently. She now existed in my life as a stress reducer, I had plenty of stress producers, thank-you-very-much. The rules had now changed. The Rules We started with some formal rituals, all of which were discussed and agreed upon in advance, such as: when I entered a room she would kneel at my feet. She was to address me as "master" and only as that unless in public, (we had no right to impose our lifestyle on the general public), or unless otherwise directed for a time. She was to wear what I said, or take her cue of what to wear from what I was wearing if we went out. She was denied privacy in any form, (once we were hiking and she said she needed to pee, I pointed to a spot off the trail, and said "go"; she turned a bright shade of red, but obediently walked over, did as she was told.) Every morning she went into the shower where I would bathe her. She kept a daily journal of her thoughts, feelings, aspirations, fears, desires, all of it, and handed it to me every evening for me to read. I would tie her to the bed at night; if she needed to get up for any reason, she could disconnect the restraint at the bed, but the rest of the restraint must remain on her. These were only a few of our daily rituals. You may ask: "What the heck's all that about?" Simple: these small acts reinforced her identity, her chosen path, centered her, and not inconsequentially reduced my stress, and amused me. These rituals grounded and centered her world-view, and got her used to unquestioning obedience, in that they were simple and safe to perform. They made it possible for her to extend her trust into new things, and her commitment deepened. Over time, these rituals became unnecessary and we discarded them, one by one, because they not only no longer served their purpose, but they got in the way of her development, and our enjoyment of each other. The "Proposal" After two years, I knew, not just felt, or believed, but knew, that this was the woman I wanted not just at my feet, but at my side. She was in the kitchen, making biscuits, I walked in, and told her to come to me. She had her hands deep in a pile of dough, and shot me an exasperated look, to which I simply said: "NOW". She timidly stripped her fingers of the dough, and walked over. "Show me your hands", I said. She put her hands up for inspection, palms up. I turned her left hand over, and shoved a ring on her finger. She looked at the ring, then at me, confusion flooding her face, back at the ring, realized what it was, her eyes got huge, then she collapsed on the floor. I looked down at her and said: "I'll take that as a 'yes'". The Conclusion Over the next five years, we had many adventures, and discussions. We redefined our relationship as we examined the new boundaries from time to time, in order to decide what was working for us and what was not. Then, one day she said she really wasn't feeling well; that something was wrong in her gut. I palpated her abdomen, and realized that there was a lot of pressure. I suspected some sort of intestinal bug, and told her to go the the urgent care center of our hospital. I had some meetings I couldn't get out of, so I went to work. I came home she simply handed me her "after care" statement. She'd been given a CT scan, the results, "... suspicious of carcinomatosis..." jumped out of the page to me. We had a good cry, then prayed and hoped that it wasn't cancer. (The other possibility being a form of tuberculosis. We were actually praying that she had tuberculosis). It was ovarian cancer, stage III-C. Surgery and nearly 5 years of chemotherapy followed. We had a good run, but it was over. She told me that she was beyond tired, and simply stated: "I want to go home", (meaning to heaven). She finished her fight four weeks ago to this day. I love her and miss her so much it hurts. But, I'm also so happy for her, that she is finished with all of that. |
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