tagBDSMThe Making of a DomiNOT! Ch. 02

The Making of a DomiNOT! Ch. 02

bydominot©

News flash exhibit A.

Can't save a marriage with D/s.

Not that it was my idea.

I gave it the most thought. Not only on the tying up, mind you, though I did that as well.

My husband wants a mother, not a Domina. I refuse to be that, his mother. I want a man in the house. The idea of babying him is preposterous!

His father once asked me when do I start learning how to knit, do some woman stuff. I was incredulous. At the time, I was most busy attempting to ship all of Amazon.com into my library. That is how I get off!

If it is preposterous, count on me to have to do it. For the while it lasted, I became the guiding influence he always sought. I answered every query. I made myself available. I made decisions for him. I listened. I provided comfort. I participated.

All the things that were on his shopping list of things to change, especially the ones he did not know how to voice.

I became.

Amazing things started to happen as this new confidence seeped into other corners of my life. I made myself a list of directives, things to change. All I ever wanted to be.

I am ready to be Me.

The backlash was soon to hit me. I spent the past few years blaming myself of all manner of sins, real or imagined. So did he. He was the good guy who did eveything for me. I was the Evil Bitch on the outside, the inner sub in my heart. The last large disagreement gave way to mutual demands for change. As I made that honest, pure effort to attend to a list of demands the size of Argentina, husband failed to measured up. I asked for two things only. That he be nice and courteous to me at all times, and that he seek therapy.

I am not a therapist, and I think ten years in the trying have proven that my help is not enough.

Ah, it was beautiful while it worked. Mind you, learning to be a responsible Dominant made me acutely aware of my submissive nature. To this day I am dumbfounded as to how the female Dominant achieves satisfaction. I achieve none either way, so for now it is not an issue.

Submissives *do not* secretly long to be Dominants. The mechanics escape them.

While I seized this opportunity to become the Inner Me, it seemed that husband thought himself out of the woods. My taking of responsibility has him relinquishing his, which is what he is always accusing me of doing.

We are reversing roles. That is not supposed to happen!

I was patient at first. This is a way of life, a new way of life. Takes time to adjust, even in the minimalist manner we chose to express it. As long as he adhered to my diminutive list of tasks - though they are hard - I kept the plan. It is not so hard for me: I see the bigger picture.

I am not saving my marriage. I am taking complete control of my life, whereas before I let it lead me around. Masterless, I was submitting to the whims of the Universe.

Universe is a bad Master. Hardly ever talks, and there is no fucking.

This week something happened, and I am not even sure what it is. I was blaming it on my new riding crop, the appearance of which seemed to cause some concern (don't jump, the only person I used it on was myself - yay!). I had overdone it. I had not listened. I was a bad Dominant.

Then I read something on the "Different Loving" website that had me floored: perverts such as me blame every relationship failure on their kinkiness. It is actually very common. Stop blaming yourself woman! He asked for it!

Makes so much sense.

In any case, I am not going to continue putting this Herculean effort (yes dearies, it is a lot of work, and I put all my meager free time into it!) on something he does not even seem to enjoy. God, dominating someone who is not into it, boils down to abuse.

With tears in her eyes, the InnerMistress retreated back to my heart where she lives. I had this really harsh thought, that perhaps he was enjoying curbing me. When I demonstrated such enthusiasm, when I put myself to the task, he enjoyed withdrawing. I don't think that is the truth though. That is just my pain talking.

Three days before his scheduled appointment, he became increasingly agitated. The niceness was gone, and he was snapping at me every time he spoke. Every sentence that has ever left his lips since is in the imperative tense.

He is picking a fight.

But I have endurance. Long ago I understood that the arrival of a small child in our marriage would bring exhaustion, and I knew myself not to deal so well with extreme situations. As the climate got tenser, and my husband struggled with the reality of raising a child, I strengthened my resolve. It is not perfect, mind you. Two year olds are very tricky, and I am not so strong.

But I saved the day with that. When father and son just could not agree with each other, I could intervene. I could guide. I feel this in an absolute manner: even since I learnt this skill, this stepping back from a tense situation, my entire life has changed.

If I could not help, I could at least not join the fight.

He saw the therapist. I tried to understand what she spoke to him about, I did not press. I do not consider it my job anymore to wring things out of him. And he was as snappy as ever, as controlling as ever after it. The doctor may have made some inroads, for he is a mess.

My resolve broke. Without respect, this cannot work. I cannot step back when I feel mistreated. While we were both trying, it was a joint effort. I have no false pride. I can make efforts, no matter which harsh thoughts I have in my mind. I am doing an entire turn around of my life right now, I can throw in some items for him.

I am amazed at how a change of attitude can change things so much. I look different in the mirror, even to myself. And no, I am not wearing leather now :)

I am wearing the same clothes. I am the same person. Yet, the very tone others use to address me has changed. And it continues to change. No way I am stopping it.

Maybe this is what he wants? Maybe he wants things back to the way they used to be? Me miserable, he getting on with this life? But he himself likes to point out how I am lacking, how I am evil, how unreliable I am.

Why should the appearance of the self he helped define, provide such a threat?

I don't know. I can't guess his thoughts, he is not articulate enough to voice them. I find myself thinking whether this happened in the past; whether I tried to change, and I suffered such backlash. Maybe not, I have never seen this clearly. I have never had the courage to voice who I was!

Being ordered around by a rude person, it is abuse. There, I said it!

Asking some to change her entire life in exchange for nothing, all the while threatening divorce, is terrorism.

I am not having it.

The amazing thing is, I think this is the most difficult time I may have had, and somehow, I have managed to continue steering the ship. I am not alone though, I have had invaluable help. I have had guidance from someone who may have already saved me from harm. Someone whose very being provides a standard by which things can be measured. You know who you are.

I am not afraid.

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