Training Day

Yesterday was divine. So divine I feel a little Bette coming on.

For those of you who may not have known I began training my subby boy yesterday.

I will admit this to you, but please keep it to yourself. I was a bit nervous. Starting out with someone new is always an anxious time. Will you click? Will it work? What if he has some weird facial tick or constantly clears his throat? What if he walks in and says something unforgivable like “G.W. RULES!!!!”? See, there are so many things to think of! Ok honestly none of that really concerns me. But there is a period of adjustment to new people. And my subby is different than anyone I’ve played with before. He’s a service submissive. Now I’ve played with a few people who identified thusly but it became apparent quiet quickly that the only service they were interested in is the service I would be doing to their naughty bits. Tie me up and get me off. Which when assumed of me, raises my ire. However my new subby seems (and it is early stages. I haven’t discounted the possibility that he could be running clever con and planning to kill me and wear me as a skin suit.) genuinely interested in serving me.

he arrived in good, if quiet spirits. As soon as we entered my house I had him kneel to remove my boots. It was amazing watching how attentive he was to each detail. Pulling up my pant leg, untying the tie, loosening the laces, and finally removing it, readjusting my pant leg, lining them up and placing them where instructed. Something so minor that I do at least once a day becomes hugely magnified when it is being done for you freely out of service. And that probably was not as significant a moment for him out of all he did during the day. But for me it was a kinky hallmark moment.

Anyway, I then took him on a tour of my house before having him strip as far as negotiations allowed and fitted him with his training collar, explaining that if we progress past the training period (I’m still being vigilant. Remember the skin suit?) he will be fitted for a proper collar. In retrospect I wish I had said a bit more. Something grander perhaps. But in the moment, seeing my collar locked into place around his neck…there was something profound in the simplicity and I held that moment.

But then I put him to work. Oh yes I did. Straight into the basement. Now I know you haven’t seen my basement. How do I know? Because if you are not my husband or my daughter you haven’t seen it. I don’t let people. Why? Because it’s a shithole. Not the space. It’s a great room with HUGE amounts of potential (read it’s going to be my playspace) but 6 years of living here (FUCK IT”S BEEN 6 YEARS!!!!) and allowing my husband near total dominion over it (he shares it with the cat) means that there was every cardboard box that had entered my home for the past 6 years stacked precariously waist high on either side of a narrow alley that led to the laundry room. Everything that couldn’t fit into a garbage bag but needed to be thrown out was scattered throughout the basement. And amidst all of that were boxes containing things precious to me. To make a long story short (TOO LATE!) it was a big job.

But my boy didn’t flinch. he just put his head down, demolished boxes and filled trash bags. I left him alone for the first hour while I cut out patterns upstairs. I used that as a kind of litmus test to see how dedicated he would be to his task. If he would find an excuse to come up every 10 minutes to ask a question or to see if I needed something. Which yes is good service; however it is not the task that was assigned which was bag up trash. It is important to me to accomplish tasks. However I fully expected to see him pop up those steps at least twice. I was pleasantly surprised that he did not come up even once. he didn’t call. he simply kept to his work and by the time I went back down an hour later he had an impressive stack of trash bags and a nearly emptied corner of the room.

I won’t bore you with details about cleaning out my basement. Instead I will say that it was a wonderful experience. Every bit of the day. My basement is piled high with trash bags. I was prepared a lovely lunch for which he sat at my feet while we ate. My laundry is done. And he got a crash course in my toy bag. Good news, he likes fire! he dealt well with the copious safe calls made by my ever vigilant mother and father. (mom called every hour, my dad every half. No skin suits on their watch!) At the end of the day when all was done and it was time to part I gave him a scarf I made for him and he was appreciative.

his next journal assignment will be to tell me how the day of service impacted him. For my part it was profound. I have been jerked around a fair bit in my life. I despise dishonesty and have encountered quite a bit of it in my hunt for a submissive. Thus far my boy has been and done exactly what he has said. From me that is high praise. I am humbled by his service and greater for it. I look forward to our next session.

But I’m like Mad Eye Moody. Constantly vigilant. If he starts trying to get me to put lotion on my skin then I am out of here.