I've never really thought I was a slave. Didn't think I had it in me. I'm too independent, too opinionated, and too contrary just because. Sure I've had my share of fantasies over the years about being locked up in chastity and made to serve. It didn't include doing laundry, paying bills, cleaning the house, or making dinner after a long day at work. But recently I've begun to think that maybe I could be a slave to a domme. Probably not but maybe.
I am my wife's slave. I bathe her, dress her, undress her, cook for her, clean some (not my strong suit), and am learning to cook (big fun). I try to anticipate her needs and just do them without having to be told. I take pride in my work and want to protect her and care for her. I sometimes become resentful, but the negative feelings pass. My feelings of being put upon are far outweighed by my sense that I'm providing her with the best quality of life she can experience in this last leg of her life.
I've been reading "At Her Feet" by Tammy Jo Eckhart and Fox. They are in a long term M/s relationship. She's married and has a husband and Fox is her slave. While the book was mostly common sense and basic psyche 101, it was written from a decidedly kinky point of view by a femdom and her slave. I began to think whether I could do a real 24/7 dommy girl/slave boy thing. I guess I was intrigued by whether I could sustain this dynamic with a dominant woman who was realistic about the limits real life can put on two people. I do this some with She-Who-Visits but we do long distance, not up close and personal. Made me want to talk to her about her thoughts about our future.
Such a venture would involve a poly relationship as she is happily married. More than my doubts that I could be a slave, I have serious doubts I could responsibily commit to a poly relationship. Way to complicated. I can barely sustain a relationship with myself let alone two or more others. Plus, I'm a loner not a joiner.
But in these days of trailing luggage through airports jogging to keep up with the speedy wheelchair attendant who pushes my wife to our waiting car - home from a visit out West to see her parents; it's fun to think about. There's a free form beat to my life and maybe I'm just slave to the rhythm.
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