I was in the supermarket aisle yesterday rushing from errand to errand in my life. Next on the list? Rice. Basmati. Jasmine is nice but there's nothing like the aroma and texture of Basmati. There it was, just down on the lower shelf. I bent at the hips and then remembering my state of knickerless-ness and a shorter skirt, a little rule left me by a distant Local D, and I quickly bent my knees to retrieve the small prize of white kernels.
I gazed at the packet as my thoughts drifted, hurtled really, back to a man who had found me searching for a Dominant character. Just over a couple of years back I hardly knew who I was or what this thing was in me that tapped at my brain, pushing me forward into the unknown. He found me and claimed me. It was a slow process, it always is. We never met, as is the way with D/s in a lot of cases these days, we were content for that time with an online connection. I was far too timid to even step in a direction that would see us come into the offline world. He lived in another state. We were at least in the same country and he travelled a great deal. Up until then I had kept most potential Dom's at a distance, safely with an ocean in between us. I lived in the knowledge that we would meet one day, though the very idea of that terrified me. I was able to explore this thing in me and have almost unlimited contact.
I loved how he exerted his control. He was a methodical man and controlled my dress, everyday. I sent him a list of all my known activities for the week or two if he was to be travelling overseas. I had previously delivered to him a not insubstantial list of all my lingerie. In return he somehow provided me weekly a list of garments I was required to wear (or not) for my activities. This frankly, impressed me. He rarely missed a beat. The list was always delivered to me in time to know what to do. I never had to make a decision, though there was an established rule around that should the occasion arise. He did not care for black and over time he trained me not to care for black very much either. To this day I rarely wear black though it still fills my draw with it's lace and filminess in case...one day...
In the supermarket aisle I gazed at the company name, his company name, on the packet of rice as my thoughts drifted back to my first Daddy. My first real taste of another's control. As I held the packet of rice made by his company in my hand, this simple food, a staple of so many people, I remembered with some fondness my first time. Now that same packet of rice sits in my pantry, a memory of Daddy gone but certainly not forgotten. That small packet connected me in that moment to Daddy-gone. There was a small sense of loss too in that packet. A little sense of regret. If only he had come into my world at a later time, when I was more brave. But then he is one of the reasons I have become braver. He was who I needed at that time. Now there is one (or two ;)) who I need at this time. One or two who guide me further on the journey and in their own way encourage me to be braver still.
|Source Internet: photographer unknown|