Alright, so I feel like I should be on an episode of House. I’ve apparently got some crazy, exotic, rare disease that no one can figure out (don’t worry, I’m not contagious, they checked for all of those).
I’m home, with an appointment to see a lung specialist, a blood specialist, an infectious disease specialist (because of the unexplainable [why does WordPress’ client say that’s spelled wrong? It’s not spelled wrong] absurdly high white blood cell count, not because of something gross, like the words “infectious disease” tend to imply). Oh, and then I’ve got to see a psychiatrist, just for the fuck of it, apparently. I know there’s a list somewhere of kink-friendly medical professionals, including psychiatrists, but I want to find the most conservative, vanilla one in town. That’ll be a fucking entertaining hour, and totally worth the $20 copay.
So I got home on Saturday, slept for 29 hours, and feel a hell of a lot better. Hospitals tend to not understand the concept of sleep deprivation.
And what did I find in my Fetlife inbox upon waking up? A message entitled, “I know I’m the last one you want to talk to.”
Ooooh, this could be entertaining.
Then I saw who sent it.
Well, hello again, Ash. Dammit, and I thought it would be some crazy, interesting, juicy drama.
Because I flaked twice already but I now have a disciplinarian but she lives in Canada. She is trying to find someone to help carry out punishments. Is there any chance you’d consider talking to me again?
I see I even made your blog and that you were looking forward to me serving you until I flaked.
Please let me know if you will hear me out
Oh yeah, because messaging me out of the blue after two years to ask me for something is a great way to get what you want.
And mentioning the blog, and that I was looking forward to him serving me was supposed to serve what purpose, exactly? Sure, I was looking forward to it. He’s hot, insanely tall, and made great noises when I did mean things him. Oh, and he was going to pay me. Uh, yeah I was looking forward to it.
The sky is blue. I’m bored with this conversation. Men who message me out of the blue, asking for shit, are idiots.
Wait, are we not pointing out obvious things? I thought that’s what we were doing. Are we not doing that?
I thought about ignoring him, but I couldn’t help it. I replied. But hey, I was nice-ish.
Three times. You’ve flaked three times.
And what exactly are you asking me to do? To randomly punish someone I don’t own based on rules that someone else laid out? To do the grunt work for someone who lives in another country? To do all the work and get none of the benefit?
Yeah, I’m not hugely eager to do that. Particularly with you. I’ve got 3 reliable subs now. Any free time I have, I’d rather spend with them. And I’m not about be at the beck and call of another Dominant thousands of miles away.
And yeah, I was looking forward to you serving me. But the same thing happened that’s happened every other time. You flaked. On top of that, you got all butthurt when you weren’t the center of my world. And when I didn’t “discipline” you exactly the way you wanted. I’m a Dominant. Not your personal fetish delivery system. You serve me. Not the other way around.
So no thanks, I’d rather not.
Pretty clear, right? Pretty cut-and-dry, yes? Precision of language, and all that?
This was his reply.
Fair enough. I just was hoping you’d give me a few minutes to talk with you. Like 15 minutes to lay out what she had in mind.
I’m sorry I flaked. I got scared and was immature. Hopefully at the very least you forgive me for that
First of all, there’s nothing to forgive. I’m not angry with him, I don’t hate him. I haven’t even thought about him in two years.
Secondly, didn’t I just say no? That I’m not interested? That I have no desire to get in the middle of their two-week-old relationship?
Didn’t that happen? I mean, I know I’ve been on a surprising amount of medication, but I could’ve sworn that happened.
An hour later, I guess he decided he didn’t want to wait for me to say no again. He wrote another message.
She’s going to put me in chastity, make me wear panties 247, and make me into a sissy turning my bottom hole into a vagina.
She wants me to follow rules and then wants someone to come over and do the physical punishments. Id be allowed to serve them domestically as well as worship them sexually as well.
If you aren’t interested which you made clear you are not would you be able to advise me how to approach someone about this? Or am I looking for something that isn’t possible.
Seriously, first of all, he lives here. Vegas is nowhere near the Canadian border.
So he entered into a disciplinarian “relationship” where the discipline can’t be enforced in any way? She can’t punish him, she can’t enforce the rules she sets out for him (and he has been known to be disobedient). There’s absolutely nothing she can do. So being in a relationship with her still requires being with someone local.
How is that supposed to work? Logistically, I mean. What was the thought process behind that? Behind entering into a remote disciplinarian relationship, a dynamic based solely on a metric fuckton of rules and a level of control I don’t even exert over my collared submissives, much less someone who doesn’t wear my collar? Who thought that was a good idea?
Now, I’m a possessive Dominant. My boys are mine. I’ll often have them play with others, but on my terms, and I’m still in control of the situation. Every other Domme I’ve played with has known this, has known that the boy we’re playing with is mine, and that my word is goddamn law when it comes to what happens to him during the session. And it’s the same with me when I’m playing with someone else’s sub. It’s one of those unwritten rules between Dominants. You don’t fuck with things that don’t belong to you.
So the idea of entering into a relationship in which I’d have to rely on someone else to do 98% of the interaction would bother the fuck out of me. I wouldn’t want him submitting on a regular basis to someone who is not me. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to enter into a situation where that is not only encouraged, but required by the specific dynamic.
And yeah, I’m kind of thinking he’s asking for something impossible. I sure as hell don’t know any Domme who would want to do all the grunt work, doing exactly as she’s told by another Dominant, basically being nothing but a fetish delivery system for someone else. She can’t make any decisions, she can’t use her own judgement to guide or correct him, she can’t change or adjust his rules, she basically can’t do a damn thing without getting the okay from his Owner.
Granted, I obviously don’t speak for every Dominant woman in Vegas, but I know a few of them, and there isn’t a single one I can think of that would be okay with a situation like that. I mean, domestic and sexual service is all well and good, but you can’t develop a relationship with a submissive that belongs to someone else, where someone else dictates what your relationship can and cannot be.
Who would want that? Especially when, as a Dominant woman, you can get sexual and domestic service basically at the drop of a hat.
And then, of course, there’s the fact that this guy is a proven flake. Who would want to waste their time with someone who is, in all likelihood, going to flake out again?
So, my dear Ash, no, I am not going to help you approach other women with this ridiculous little proposal. I think you were an idiot to enter into a relationship like this to begin with. I do not have the words to adequately express how little I care about your situation and your dynamic.
I also do not have the words to adequately express how thankful I am that my number has been changed since the last time we chatted. Oh, but every message or email you send me will be posted here on the blog and publicly ridiculed (because really, you just make it too easy). So have fun, and I’m sure we’ll talk again in another year or two, when you’re still single and unable to find what you’re looking for. No reason to deviate from the current pattern, right? It’s worked so well for us for the past what, six years? Wow, almost seven years. Almost as long as the average American marriage.
Is it just me, or is that “Definition of Insanity” cliche getting harder and harder to resist quoting?