This weekend, Daddy and I celebrated 3 years of me being collared to him. On Friday night I served him a 3 course meal and champagne in my maids dress. The dress is just play for us, but the servitude was anything but a game.
On Saturday afternoon we sat down to a meal at our favourite restaurant with a print out of my rules. Across 5 full pages of A4, in font size 10, the rules are quite a read. They range from my daily routine, to my behaviour towards Daddy, to etiquette, punishments, and how we communicate. At that dinner table we read the entire document, making sure each rule was still relevant and desired by both parties. With very few amendments, the pages were tucked into my handbag for later that evening.
At The Grey Area, an amazing new ageplay and BDSM fusion event, Daddy and I had a collaring anniversary ceremony in front of scores of our friends. I knelt opposite my Daddy and I began to read out my rules. I spoke with pride, sharing the way I live every day of my life with a room full of people. After section 2 of 5 I looked up at my Daddy. He nodded, a look of approval and agreement. I stopped at that point and the celebrant asked if I recommitted to my rules and to my submission. I looked up at the person I give all control to and beamed “yes, Daddy”. Daddy reaffirmed his promises to me, too, and spoke from the heart about how much I mean to him. I jumped up from my knees, not because I had been dismissed but because I wanted to hug my Daddy who is my world. He held me tight, and the moment will be with me forever.
I live by a LOT of rules. They aren’t about kinky things, they’re about my time, my health, my money. They cover every aspect of my life. I can’t spend a day not feeling entirely controlled by Daddy. We don’t feel like we know anyone who lives under the level of power exchange we share. As I knelt before my Daddy, as I looked up at him and we silently communicated in the way that is so natural for us, I wondered if people thought I have too many rules.
At that moment I knew the entirety of the rules were between me and Daddy. Not reading them all in no way devalued our moment. We had just reread them in private, we had discussed them, haggled them out, sat as two equals, two adults in the boardroom. You see I asked for most of the rules. The document was typed up by me. At that table I had all the power. If I vetoed Daddys desire to have a rule, we would discuss it, but the final say would be as much mine as his.
The rules are what I asked for. What makes Daddy special is his willingness to enforce them. If they didn’t mean as much to him as me, then I wouldn’t feel Dominated, and it would feel empty and meaningless. It is the partnership, my craving the rules, his making me keep to them, that means we have the most amazing dynamic which lasted 3 years and will go on to last a lifetime.
I need his control, it tastes more satisfying than freedom ever did. But I know that, just as Daddy said in that ceremony with tears in his voice, he needs me just as much. He cares for me. My value to him isn’t as a sub it’s as a friend. If I chose to live without rules tomorrow he would still be by my side. He controls me because it is my deepest desire, because I give the power to him every day, because he sees me flourish under them, and because as a submissive too himself he knows how much having someone care enough to make you keep to the rules means. He knows just as much how it feels to have someone dominate you but not really hold you to the rules you crave or punish you with consistency. He knows how amazing it feels to live under someone else’s control. So he gives, not takes, and he does it wholeheartedly. My submission is just my expression of my eternal gratitude for him allowing me to live in this way.