I had a dream last night that basically epitomized my feelings about being a Domme to The Neighbor: I’m a hack.
I was somehow partnered with a pixie-haired blonde girl, lithe and curvy with little breasts and a sweet, flowy energy. There were two men with us, TN and her man and they were both eager to please. I was awkward and weird where she was sure and innovative.
In my silences she gave them tasks to do and I watched somewhat horrified as my guy did as he was told BY SOMEONE ELSE.
She was encouraging me to engage, but I couldn’t, I felt like I was at a dance and they all knew the steps, but I didn’t.
TN was sweet and kept looking to me expectantly, but I kept hiding inside myself. They kept going without me. I was alone with my dick in my hand, feeling silly and horrible.
I don’t think TN really feels this way about me — thank God — but it’s enough that I do.
Lately, life has put the brakes on our libidos and the quantity and quality of the sex has gone down slightly (it hurts to write that, by the way, but I will avoid any self flagellation for now).
We still talk and see each other every night and day, cuddle and kiss and I stroke his big hardon and he suckles my breasts, but for some reason 10 o’clock at night no longer calls to me rise up. Instead, my body yearns to shut off and I answer the call.
I do my best, though, and if I look at it objectively (and more kindly) I dominate him considerably through a multitude of non-sexual ways: my tone of voice, my requests (aka demands), my moods, and my needs.
And the magical, impossible, ridiculous thing of it is: HE COMPLIES.
He complies and he yields and he bends and he offers. Always. He never says NO.
To be fair, I think I’m fair. Rules to follow include things like not teasing me about my age in a disparaging way (he may tease, of course, but I better not feel like it’s a dig); he is to kiss me before leaving the house; he is to do any favor I ask of him no matter how big or small (how many boxes of Topo Chico has that man lugged up 3 flights of stairs in 2 years is beyond me); he is to wear panties when he vacuums for me; and more recently, he is not to masturbate or cum without my presence.
In the absence of physical, sexual play, these little rules are what connects our dots.
What I’ve taken away from all of this is that it’s whatever fits the couple. It’s sorta like how a therapist is trained: they learn the theories and how they work and then they personalize the exchange for each client. We all take what we know about consent, D/s, power and play, and make them into our own. It’s a hodgepodge of rules and limits and we gotta take what we can get.
I don’t know whether or not I’m actually dominating him in his eyes, but I know I’m trying in mine. Perhaps he’s so wired to submit he doesn’t even realize it. Can that even happen? Or does he know on some level that I am always exerting myself over him?
My dream denoted my worst fears — that I’m a goddamned stupid idiot who doesn’t know what she’s doing — but I guess I can take that as a positive: I don’t want to be around anyone who thinks they know what they’re doing and that includes me.