dominus543

[dominus543]

What 24/7 enslavement is

Being owned, as a fact, and knowing that is true, no matter the setting, scenario, or situation; which if nothing else can help ground you. Knowing your life is in someone else’s hands, willfully, and fully. Knowing that your well-being is cared for by another, not simply tangential to their own but above it and all else. Feeling safe and secure in the fact you have not only a person or physical home to return to, but also a state of being that is your most natural and gives you purpose, one legitimized by your other half. Being pushed, taught, guided, healed, and nurtured, to become a better you than you could have or would have on your own. Being freed from the responsibility of self. Having a reason for being, that is chosen by you, and chosen for you.

What 24/7 enslavement is not (necessarily)

Being a full time maid. Being a stay at home partner. Living in a basement. Giving up your personality. Having no creative outlets or original thoughts. Giving up purpose found in other areas of life. Putting things like motherhood/fatherhood, career, friendships, partnership, or personhood, aside or against your place in life.

It is about fulfillment, and being pushed through purpose towards a fuller life, not a more limited one.

[dominus543]

Dada’s gonna teach you to sharpen the knife I cut into your flesh with. My arms wrapped around you, my chest to your back, my head overtop of yours, chin resting on top. Guiding your hands back and forth across the whetstone on the countertop. Teaching you to hold the angle steady, to turn a burred piece of steel into a crisp razor with which ill lacerate your skin in unholy ritual… to sign it permanently with marks of my affection. I’ll let you sip on your own blood as a reward for doing such a good job, and if you don’t, well… it’ll be so much more painful.

So you *will* do a good job for me.

[dominus543]

Duality

I want to comfort her and kiss her cheeks until the tears stop when she cries from a puzzle not making sense. To cradle her; until Dada finds the right piece for her, so that she can keep going and I can tell her how proud I am of her for persevering.

and also

To beat her to within an inch of her life with my closed fists. Strung up by her elbows tied together behind her, strappado, her shoulders bearing the brunt and her shoulder blades forced together and burning like they’re about to tear out of their own sockets. Seeking desperately for some stability to take the load off as she swings a little, like a dainty pendulum. Dancing on her tip toes that are allowed to brush the ground only so barely. Like a gorgeous stripped down black swan ballerina, who’s been turned into a filthy punching bag hung from a hook in our penthouse basement. All just because I wanted to watch her pitifully crying and ruining the makeup she spent so long putting on for me. I want her to alternate between begging me to stop, and begging me for more, as her skin is imprinted with the red outline of my knuckles, bare fists as hard as brass. I want to leave her there in the dim light, until she’s pissed herself and there are no more tears to be had.

Either way, I’ll have stopped her from crying any more.

Either way, afterwards, she’ll be comforted and praised for persevering.

And Either way, I’m going to take Polaroids of her accomplishment, so that she can look back at it later and smile to herself.

Love is complicated, but she knows it is all from a place of such sweet care and affection; no matter the form of attention I decide to gift her.

[dominus543]

Timeout

I want to put my little girl in timeout. To grab her by her hair and drag her into her room, to push her down into her crib and restrain her. Her wrists secured to her biceps, to keep her hands out of the way, her biceps thighs and ankles strapped down tight to the mattress. Id roughly tape a pacifier into her bratty mouth. Muffling her whines. Then I’d put the side wall up, place a timer facing away from her, and leave. She wouldn’t know if it would ring after 10 minutes, an hour, or 6. Surely she’d be tuckered out after that, from the physical and mental struggle of her predicament.

But if not, if she got up and felt more pissed than docile. Well… then right back she’d go, this time well spanked first, a lovense placed inside her wet little baby parts. One that was off more often than it was on, and wasn’t on for long enough to do anything but keep her wet and needy. Frustrated by its seemingly random pulses that were never long enough or rhymthic enough to get her close to cumming. She’d be diapered, even if by force, and that way the toy would stay put, and she’d know there was nothing stopping me from keeping her there all day. Surely she’d be obedient and pliable after that… no? Especially if I forgot to set the timer.

(Post is about consenting adults. Hate that I even have to say that.)

[dominus543]

Lilith and Lucifer should have kept the garden for themselves, and eaten all the fruit there was to bare. Eaten the apples, the oranges too, and dared to compare them. After all, they are in fact both devils advocates, and oh how they love to play. How does such a sacred thing become conquered by those who can’t ever hope to understand it

[dominus543]

Those Silver bullets

That once passed through paper mache lungs

Became the bullets placed under her feet

Gravity always finds it’s way I suppose

And I

Well I gave up one poet for another, my first love released so I could find better release in my last

A girl who’s frequent quiet I find disquieting

And yet

I always used to like the sound of being alone

For I feared the heavy footsteps that interrupted it would find me reading the wrong books

Her teachers dared not to interrupt her reading she told me… lucky child I’d think to say, but she feared the heavy footsteps for a worse reason entirely, so I can’t in good faith call her lucky after all

Maybe I’m still reading the wrong books.

No one’s come walking, let alone knocking

…For a while now

To tell me either way

And maybe like we all do, I have become what I feared most. Maybe I myself, tread too heavy.

I am alone again, and I hate the sound.

Perhaps it will be made better, when the last of those silver bullets finally hits the ground

And I will learn like she did, to tread more gently

[dominus543]

What is in a name, and yet a rose by any other

[dominus543]

An “I told you so” is worth nothing in comparison to them figuring it out on their own; and you knowing they know now… that you knew all along… what was best for them.

[dominus543]

Control isn’t about force, or exertion, it’s about stability. So that everything that doesn’t have that, finds you for guidance.

[dominus543]

I want to paint her; bruises, cuts, scars and all into the halls of the met at a scale that is immortal. I want to sculpt her in marble kneeling with the impression of every curve and edge meticulously carved as to put Michael Angelo and Rodin to shame. I want her to be the bride look at the end of every runway show, but always dressed in black. I want to give her reasons to wear the dresses I make her. I want to cook her cuisine no one’s heard of yet that contests with that of Per Se and Eleven Madison Park, but also Purdue chicken nuggies just because she wants them. I want to draw her a thousand times over. I want her eyes in water color, oils, graphite, and marble. I want her to be known as mine and for me to be thought of alongside her. Just like…

Hubert and Hepburn, Givenchy and Little Audrey.

H.H. , like the novel.

G & L.A. like in life.

[dominus543]

I want to take care of the problem child that everyone else tires of and throws away. The one that scares off the kindest men. The one everyone’s addicted to until they see past the surface. Because I’ve seen past the surface, I’ve seen every little bit, and I love the depths, the pits, the darkness, just as much as what’s skin deep.

I want to hold her firmly and clutch her to my chest and even if she never quite understands, and will never fully believe, that I really will never let go, just because everyone else has, than I want to prove her wrong every god damn day. I want to give her consistency, rather than complacency.

I want her to know that she’s understood, and that when she’s not, someone’s working on it. I want her to know someone sees all the silent cues, all the tearless crying out, all the times she’s looking for reaction and assurance so that she knows for sure she exists, and knows someone else is looking out for her and knows what she needs even when she doesn’t and certainly when she can’t quite express it. I’d rather spend my life picking a lock with something invaluable behind it, then open a hundred doors easily, just to find something humdrum behind each one.

I want her problems to be my problems. I want her tears to be mine to wipe off, to lick off her blushing cheeks. I want the silliest of triggers and the heaviest of breaths to be mine to resolve… and only mine. I want her to run towards me into my embrace when so much as a pin drops, because that’s the safest place in the world and she knows it. I want to kill and die for her. To kill her, and for her to die for me.

It’s not a savior complex, not a god complex, it’s a father complex. I want to make right for her what was put wrong by a hundred others, for the rest of my life, and hers.

[dominus543]

Confinement of the body allows for the emancipation of the mind

[dominus543]

On Permission and Denial

The only thing that feels better than being told you may touch your princess parts or that you may cum, by your Owner, is being told that no you may not.

Yes means you can have what you want, a little treat, and it feels so good to have it. Especially when it’s not your choice, especially when you have to admit someone else has to decide for you, just by asking.

But no… no means you don’t get what you want, you’re denying yourself the most primal and elementary of pleasures at someone else’s behest. Listening to the no reaffirms you don’t have control over even your most intimate matters, because if not for them… of course you could. But sometimes hearing No feels better, because no means someone else is deciding. Some one else is taking care of you better than you could; and nothing feels better than that.

[dominus543]

“Hush hush now little one, I’m doing this for you. Everything I do is for you.”

I want to drown her in a basement bathtub while the house burns down around us, and tell her I’m just trying to keep her safe from the flames.

-by your words and your hands

[dominus543]

I want to drown her in a basement bathtub while the house burns down around us, and tell her I’m just trying to keep her safe from the flames.

-by your words and your hands