Disclaimer: Although nothing in this post is sexual, it contains details of my life, banter and conversations that happen within a self-described 24/7 D/s dynamic and is aimed at normalising and providing acceptance of those of us who choose to live this way. For further reading on my decision not to provide an adult content disclaimer on my non-sexual posts, please see my post “LGBTQ+K: A Case For “Kinky” As A Sexuality“. Thank you.
Contains some strong language.
“Before you sleep,” I began, “come here”. He did.
“Pinch, punch, first of the month,” I said, pinching and punching his arm lightly, “no returns”. The clock had barely struck midnight, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Matt was too good at that game, and I was getting in there while the going was good.
“You bitch,” he laughed, “you win this round, but I shall reign superior.”
“You shall,” I replied, “and then you shall bow down to your superior, too”. I curtseyed mockingly, raising an eyebrow as I did so. He laughed again, called me a ‘little shit’ and wished me a goodnight.
Last night, I fell into a bit of a slump with myself. I’d revealed some things about my brother yesterday that, truthfully, aren’t nice, and yet I couldn’t help but be honest about the past and how I felt, or how it made me feel. He’s not a bad kid, he’s actually pretty sensitive in the middle as well, it’s just that he had a habit of talking over me, of belittling me, of saying things that, actually, really hurt. I understand he has his problems, but I have mine too. We used to be so close, and truthfully, there isn’t much that I wouldn’t give to go back there.
The problem is, my brother has changed, badly, and in a pretty big way.
I’m not sure when or why it happened, but he started getting angry and violent. He punched the shower, smashed my Dad’s greenhouse and has hit my mother a couple of times, too. This is what terrifies me now, it’s just him and her at home. Mum is getting old, she can’t bounce back like she used to. If he put her in hospital or worse, I will throw the book at him, be he my brother or not.
“If he hit your mother, he’d lose my respect, too” Matt said, “even if she’s not my mother, she’s the closest thing that I have”. I smiled weakly,at this. She is, and he does. Matt adores his ‘Mummy V’.
“He’d make me very angry, and Daddy’s not very nice when he’s angry, is he, Kitten?”. I grinned and shook my head. No, he’s not, and I knew. Not because I knew from experience, but I knew, say, from witnessing it for myself – about me.
It was our one year wedding anniversary, and as we sat outside to enjoy the warm May weather and a barbeque with a few friends, our neighbour, Natasha, came out to join us.
“Where is she?” Fucking fat cow. Oi Matt, where’s your skanky fucking wife?”
Talk about a tinderbox situation.
Before I could say or do anything about it, Matt was out into the communal garden and he was within inches of Natasha. He didn’t shout at her, he didn’t hit her, but oh boy, did he put her in her place.
“What did you say about my wife? You think I’m a waste of space? What about you? What are you doing with your life, Natasha? Yes, I went to college, what about you? Who is the bigger waste of space now?”
Fortunately, I think Natasha was too drunk and high to do anything about it, and her partner, Ian, and I had a good laugh about the situation for days afterwards. I liked Ian, but I liked Ian as an approachable, reasonable, friendly neighbour, not the older man that I’d supposedly been sleeping with. The unfortunate thing was that the police said that calling your neighbour names in a communal area is not a criminal offence, even though it became a Section 4 public disorder offence on all of the other times. Go figure.
One of the things that made me fall in love with Matt was the air of protection and safety that he gave me. Matt had my best interests at heart, and I trusted him. It was hard at first, helping him to see that me talking to other boys didn’t mean that I was going to leave him to go and sleep with them, but we made through. We learned to trust in one another, he learned to trust that I would stay, and I learned to trust that he wouldn’t hurt me, that he wouldn’t judge me or turn his back on me, no matter what I said or revealed. I could be vulnerable, open and honest with him, open and honest with him in ways that I’d never been open and honest before, and so when he too noticed the favouritism in my family, it was a bitter pill for me to swallow. Our anxiety and depression started to heal up, too. Matt and I empathised with one another, we understood one another, we helped one another. It became almost an unwritten agreement in itself: No matter what, I got you. Anne Stokes “The Protector” became meaningful for us, too. It became symbolic of how he, my Wolfie, had protected me, and how I had protected him. In the design, the woman and the wolf protect one another, just like we always had.
This morning, as I tended to the bedroom aquarium, Matt began cursing out our current neighbour.
“You really don’t like us having neighbours, do you?” I laughed.
“Not when they’re like him, no” he replied coolly.
“Why?” I asked. Compared to Natasha, our present neighbour wasn’t that bad.
“Why? Because he’s a lying little weasel, that’s why”. I laughed out loud.
Honesty and integrity matter to Matt, and that was something else that I’d learned quite early on. No matter what, be it a bloodied pimple or a secret celebrity crush, Matt would much rather know than not know. Knowns can be dealt with, unknowns get dwelled upon. Perhaps it was Matt himself who was behind my more recent, brutally honest nature.
Today, we got talking more about our dynamic, and the things that set our dynamic apart from normal ol’ married life. Really, there’s not much, not on the grand scheme of things.
“I feel as though ‘real’ 24/7 D/s doesn’t work, not really” I said, “it’s not always compatible with real life. It’s a great fantasy but -“
“Exactly” Matt agreed, “like if you had a family member in hospital or something major like that, all of that just goes out of the window. You need to be real, you need to be supportive. You need to be human. Life doesn’t always work around rules.”
That in itself was part of what made me proud to be his, and proud to say that he is mine. He understands it, he gets it, he gives me the rules to follow and the freedom to live. The guidance to follow when I need it and the room to explore when I don’t. He is a gentle Dominant, perhaps much more gentle than some others, but a gentle Dominant nonetheless. He has a few simple rules, and he expects them to be followed. They’re not even unreasonable, if anything, they’re actually quite logical.
On Saturday, we are entertaining Matt’s friend, James, for the England-Ukraine game. I’d joked a few weeks ago about how, given that their first arranged catch-up was on what would have been a Kinky Fuckery Friday, then we could find some workarounds instead, perhaps with me fetching drinks or something. I expected Matt to dismiss it completely, but he actually seemed to consider the idea.
I like James, and I feel as though I can be pretty open and honest with James, but James doesn’t know about that side of us, or at least, even if he did, he probably thinks that I’m the Dominant one. When Friday rocked around though, James had other places to be.
Fuck James, then.
Just like that, I’d lost respect for James. To me, it’s a bit of a dick move to dump somebody because you’ve double-booked, especially if you cancel without arranging to meet another time. It’s a dick move for the person you’ve cancelled on and to me, it’s a bit of a dick move towards the person you’re seeing, too. After all, if they were that important, you’d of remembered them, surely?
Initially, the next catch-up was going to be Tuesday just gone, and I’d almost celebrated in being elsewhere, seeing my Mum.
“You can be home by five then, can’t you?” It wasn’t a question. I looked at him, mouth agape. That’s time I’m spending with my mother!
Granted, she’d probably understand, it’s just that we’d always said that relationships won’t come before family commitments, unless it’s an emergency. I’d arranged to see my mother, and see my mother I will. Again, to Matt’s disappointment, Tuesday also got cancelled.
The next time now is Saturday, and I still have so much to do to get the home ready. Now though, it seems as though it’s Matt who is against the idea. I’m fine with that. After all, tonight’s our night, anyway. Saturdays are normally completely vanilla. Okay, mostly vanilla.
I suppose the last thing for today comes in my decision to close my YouTube channel back down. You know, it was an idea, bit it I’m being honest, I’m not cut out for Youtube. I don’t have the camera confidence that some Youtubers have, I don’t have that much interest in Youtube and I don’t really have the space, either. If was a space to share, but unlike my blog, I don’t have a long-term goal for my channel. I’m a writer, and I could happily write until the cows come home if I have to, but talk into a microphone in the vague hopes that someone will listen to me, or tryjng to appear even remotely interesting on camera? Eh, that’s not really my style. As ever I can only be honest, I can only try new things and if they’re not working for me for whatever reason, then I have to be able to be honest about that, too. Maybe I can try podcasts sometime, maybe, I’m not ruling it all out entirely. .
That’s it from me for today, but be sure to come back tomorrow for my next Flashback Friday.
Until next time,
Stay safe & have fun,
Helen & Matt xx