Service with a smile

February 16, 2009

He gives me back and foot rubs on demand and is my own personal body lotion applier (putting on lotion by yourself is boring; getting someone else to do it is fun).

I’ve had him wash the bed linen by hand (certain, er…stains set if you don’t take care of them right away), take out the garbage, make the bed, fold laundry, make tea, cook breakfast, serve, then wash up afterward. Nothing that’s arduous or will take a long time, since we don’t see each other very often and I don’t want to waste time that could be devoted to play or sex or conversation.

In public, he holds the umbrella over my head, runs ahead to open doors for me,  and holds my purse when I’m fumbling for my keys.

Once, I needed to take a quick trip to the store so I could pick up a few items and decided to incorporate a little D/s play. Since I wanted to try speech and eye contact restrictions, I’d e-mailed him before he came over, informing him that he was not allowed to speak to me or look at my face until I gave him permission. When I came to the front door to collect him, he was smiling a little but his eyes were obediently lowered. I told him I needed to go out and that he would follow me, but at a distance of about ten steps behind me the entire time. I had him carry the basket as I browsed, put it away while I paid, then carry my purchases home.

The situation was very new to me and, as a whole, both amusing and strange. I was testing out a new character, the Ice Queen, and it didn’t quite feel right, at least not for this boy and this night. Or maybe my sense of humor is stronger than my dominance. When we reached the drugstore, the boy rushed ahead of me to open the door, only to find that it was one of those automatic ones. It threw me off and I had to grin. The boy later told me he felt like a jackass.

On the way back, I could hear his steps behind me, his stride moderated so that he’d stay at the prescribed distance. The tale of Orpheus and Eurydice popped into my head, though I was pretty sure the boy wouldn’t get sucked into hell if I turned to check on him. I also wondered whether anyone would think it was strange that a man was obviously following me down the street at night, carrying a huge tub of cat litter. It turned out that he was wondering whether anyone would think he was stalking me and call 9-1-1.

“Oh no, officer. I know him. We’re dating. He was just carrying some stuff home for me. Why was he walking behind me the whole time? Ummm…he’s my submissive and this is a kind of foreplay for us? Ha ha ha. Yes, cat litter is heavy.”

The scene or whatever you’d call it was pretty low-key overall. He slipped into his role without any friction, complaint, or hesitation. He didn’t attempt to talk to me, his eyes never went above my neck, and he meekly carried my things, even though I knew that he was dying to  touch me, to ask for a kiss, a beating, anything.

The experience was interesting, though I don’t think I’ll try mixing service with explicit D/s practices again, not with the boy at least. It just gets too weird, especially when you know that you’ll be cuddling later with someone you earlier tried to, in a sense, dehumanize.

I don’t enjoy being the Ice Queen or Super Dominatrix. It’s not me. When I ask the boy to do something for me, it’s usually phrased as a question rather than a command, with a ‘please’ somewhere in there. I don’t feel any less dominant because I’m polite and it doesn’t make the boy any less submissive to me if he’s asked nicely rather than bullied or ‘forced’.

I prefer my service with a smile.

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One Response to “Service with a smile”

  1. Noel Says:

    When I ask the boy to do something for me, it’s usually phrased as a question rather than a command, with a ‘please’ somewhere in there. I don’t feel any less dominant because I’m polite and it doesn’t make the boy any less submissive to me if he’s asked nicely rather than bullied or ‘forced’.

    Total and complete agreement here. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been told that I’m too ‘nice’ to be a dominant. *laughs* This has always been said by people who have never seen me sweetly ask the boy to get into some terribly uncomfortable position for me to beat the hell out of him, or watched me sweetly request that he perform some particularly humiliating service.

    Personally, I think that refusing to put on a facade (for more than the occasional scene/trial/etc) is, in many ways, MORE dominant… but I’m admittedly biased 😉


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