Posted by cerrynn1 on Thu 30 Sep 04, 1:46 PM to cerrynn1's blog.
With reference to the current debate: the last three years of my former marriage were a 24/7, living- together threesome (the ex-husband plus another woman plus me). Unsurprisingly, as a result of that experience I have thought quite a bit about monogamy and its alternatives. I wrote about my adventures in a full-time polyamorous relationship at some length when a previous mono/poly debate was raging in the blogs. Some people seemed to find it interesting. If you want to read about it, it's at:
/weblogs/cerrynn1/20030422122125075
And here's another, this one mostly about jealousy in poly relationships but also about a much more positive experience I have had in a "poly" relationship, the period when I was one of Matou's *two* collared submissives:
/weblogs/cerrynn1/20040615133729308
And here's yet another, the most recent one on monogamy -- mostly on why Matou and I choose not to consider ourselves or our relationship "monogamous":
/weblogs/cerrynn1/20040913142354196
Speaking of matters poly-, and multiple subs and all that ... here at Matou Mansions, I think I may have been unwittingly sharing the premises with another submissive, a stealth submissive, a submissive who only showed her true colours yesterday.
As I remain unemployed, my days are largely occupied with Adventures in Housewifery. Like ... laundry. Yesterday I did a load of washing (what, no applause?). All was well, I took out the clean things, tried to start another load, and for some reason the machine refused to turn on. It was one of those classic "Nothing's Wrong, But Nothing Works" situations. I checked the breaker box. I checked to see if it was in fact plugged into the wall socket, and that the wall socket was switched on. I checked to make sure the machine *itself* was turned on. It was (and for those who want lascivious specifics about Washing Machine Foreplay ... I am shocked! You'll just have to let your own filthy imaginations fill in those details!).
Being a consistently perverted type myself, and always eager to practice my nascent topping skills, I tried giving the machine a few good whacks on the exposed parts of its anatomy. Obviously the machine knew I was not a True Domme, merely a sub who occasionally enjoys topping ... it stubbornly continued to defy me despite my best efforts at persuasion.
When Matou arrived home from work, I very submissively and charmingly asked him if he could, after a suitable period for rest and refreshment, perhaps kindly beat the washing machine into a bloody pulp for me?
He deferred on the "bloody pulp" bit, but did proceed to apply his considerable domming skills to the miscreant machine.
First, there was electric play (involving hooking the machine up to something that looks intriguingly like our Black Box, but Matou assures me that I wouldn't enjoy having him check to see if my fuses were still operating). Nothing apparently wrong with the electrical system, so it was time to get serious. Due to one of Matou Mansions' various structural idiosyncrasies, the washing machine lives in a space that does not fit it perfectly, under the drainboard in the kitchen (don't ask ... sigh). Serious SM play required first wrestling the machine (which I fear suffers from a significant weight problem) from the illusory security of its corner, out into the middle of the kitchen floor. With superhuman determination, strength and pure dominant force of will, Matou succeeded and the machine stood isolated, uncertain, awaiting whatever might befall it next.
And what came next? Ah, now it was time for our poor machine truly to tremble in fear and anticipation. Out from the depths of Matou's bag of tricks emerged the dreaded Socket Set, setting the scene for ... Humiliation Play! Wriggling in embarrassment, the machine was forced to endure Matou's slow, sensual removal of its top panel. Immobilised, stripped, its most private of all private parts exposed to the gaze of a host of onlookers (well, me and the Fur People, dedicated voyeurs all), the machine blushed with the shame of knowing its wires, its pumps, even its drainage pipes, were now subject to Matou's cool scrutiny and evaluation, followed by his relentlessly probing hands. Its limits were tested, its dials twisted cruelly, and Matou pushed its various buttons in those secret ways that only a skilled and experienced Dominant knows.
At last, the torture was too much and the machine called "Red!" Of course, the machine is rather untalkative at the best of times and now had been reduced to a profoundly non-verbal phase of subspace, so safewording was accomplished by flashing its little red front panel "on/off" light, which heretofore had remained stubbornly dark.
Triumph! Matou offered me the privilege of twisting the dial one more time, to see if the machine had, in fact, capitulated to his will. I did, and was gratified by the response: pants, moans, a veritable orgasm of submissive washing machine activity.
(We still don't know exactly what was wrong with the machine ... by all appearances it simply had a tantrum and then a Spontaneous Healing. I do prefer to think, though, that it has been a closet subbie all along, just waiting for the touch of the right Dominant!).
Stay tuned for further shocking tales from the lives of a 24/7 D/s couple.
To Matou ... sometimes I wonder how I ever got along without you (and not just when it comes to misbehaving washing machines, either!). Ai shiteru, Sensei ... itsumo.
your cerrynn{M}
Edited Fri 1 Oct 04, 9:50 AM by cerrynn1
