“Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living, it’s a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope, and that enables you to laugh at life’s realities.”
~ Dr. Seuss
My post about following orders got me thinking. Is my life as slave to Master a reality or a fantasy that we both buy into? Actually I’ve been thinking about this for a while, ever since I saw a thread on twitter suggesting the latter. In essence that a power exchange is a game and that people can take themselves and it too seriously. To an extent that might be true, but then that could be said about a lot of elements of life.
Is life like a game anyway?
Throughout my working career I felt like an actor in my own play. Each job was its own scene. The person I was at work wasn’t the same as the person at home. As a nurse I had responsibilities thrown at me from a very young age. The only way to get through the stresses of people being sick and dying was to act like a competent provider of care. Of course I became one after a while and so acted the competent manager etc.
Same really with parenthood. It’s not like you get a how to parent manual as you leave hospital with your baby. You muddle through, accepting help and advice or ignoring it depending on what and who gave it out. But ultimately it’s down to you to work out how to stop the baby crying, what to do about a 7 year old preferring your bed to theirs and so on.
When I was unhappy in my marriage I played a game of happy wife, which fooled everyone including my husband. Eventually though the cracks begin to show and something has to give.
Is a Master / slave dynamic a reality or fantasy?
If I say I am a slave and if Master says I am a slave then I am one. If I choose to follow certain rules laid down by him then it is a definite reality. Our dynamic is there all the time, even though it isn’t evident to outsiders or sometimes even ourselves. The collar is worn 24/7 and if I take it off I ask first. We aren’t into punishment but that doesn’t mean that I don’t know what the rules of engagement are. Nor does it mean that I don’t adhere to them, most of the time.
Others live a stricter M/s existence, more a kin to the stuff I like to read about in books. Enforcing more rules takes work on the part of the dominant and compliance on the part of the submissive. But one thing is for sure, it is a reality.
For me it has acted as an escape mechanism. You see, my life is no longer an act. Granted I’m not working (well not going out to work) but still. I’m not pretending to be happy, or competent or whatever. I’m just living my life. So it occurs to me that being a slave is less of a fantasy than being a happy wife ever was.
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