Sunday, February 23, 2014

Learning Domestic Discipline - Trust

I have asked for this. I have signed an agreement. We wrote the agreement together so I have no right to complain, therefore, being a practical, I won't. Today, I will begin my training as his Domesticated Wife. I don't work outside of my home since Mr. has a very good salary. We have no children, nor do we want any. Our marriage was becoming stagnant and Mr. was becoming more and more irritated with my crabby attitude, so he suggested this change. I read all the research on Domestic Discipline and I came up with a few adjustments, he came up with a few adjustments, and now here we are. The first day of "boot camp".

We are starting with Attitude Adjustment rather than physical discipline. That will come later in the week. For now, I need to learn that as his wife, my duty is not only to love him (which I have for most of my life!) but also to please him and trust him. His duty is to love me and provide for my safety, security and well-being. To begin this, He has taken away all of my clothing. He's locking it away in one of the three spare bedrooms (yes, we have a beautiful, big house). He has the key so there is no way I can get to anything. He has also installed a lock on his dressing room so I can't even get to his clothes! I am, basically, a modest woman and the idea of being totally nude even in my own home fills me with fear and humiliation. Still, I need to learn to trust his judgement. I am terrified that someone will see me - through a window, an unexpected visitor. I am also humiliated that I am nude and he is totally dressed. I want to hide, but this is all part of my training - a training I agreed to. I just didn't realize it would be so hard.

I begin to make bread, a regular Sunday activity. Mr. stands behind me and touches me. I want to push his hands away, but I don't. He presses my back and my boobs are now covered in flour. He touches me, runs his hands down my back. I'm panting. His fingers trail to my slit and he chuckles, feeling the wetness. He kisses the back of my neck and I moan. He dips his fingers into my honey and worries my clit. I close my eyes and explode into his hand. He laughs, slaps my bottom and whispers, "You've made me happy, Lisa."

For some reason, these words, more than the orgasm I just experienced, warms me and brings me pleasure.

"Keep this up and you'll be earning back your clothing in no time," he assures me. He snags a cookie from the jar and leaves me to finish kneading my bread.

I now understand why he took away my clothes. Perhaps enforced nudity isn't so bad after all.

No comments:

Post a Comment