There have been a lot of changes here at Chez Blackie…

Some I’ve resisted discussing because I haven’t felt brave enough to talk about them when I’m not even sure how I feel about them myself. As usual, Blackie orders me to confess my fears — in part to enjoy the delicious exploitation of it, but also to help me find my way out of the murky bewilderment of fear and confusion.

He cloaked his order in a “confess 5 things you are afraid of” task — which I’m sure is partly a test to see if I confess this one big thing. He’s also commanded that I confess each fear, one at a time, giving each it’s exploratory due; so there will be (at least) four more confessions this week.

But here’s the big relationship one…

Blackie wants me to hand my business over to him. Officially it ill be a sale of the business, with money going into my bank account for that Female Rainy Day Protection Fund. But the woman in me knows selling my company, even with cash in hand, means more dependence upon Blackie. And, should the worst occur, getting back into the business won’t be as simple as setting up shop once again… Time away is blank on a resume or portfolio.

There are pragmatic reasons for such a sale. Much of my work is done for Blackie’s company, so it makes sense for his bottom line to do more in house — keeping my employees employed and money still in our pockets. Blackie’s work forces him to travel a lot and he’d like me by his side (or under his thumb lol) more — which the sale of the business would allow.

But I can’t help but worry-wonder what else he has up his sleeve…

I’ve been around Blackie long enough to know he’s shrewd enough to have more on his agenda than his corporate bottom line — what plans does he have for my ass?

Further convincing me that this is more about our lifestyle than money or even our relationship, are his continued talks with that farmer fellow…

I don’t think this decision is a make-or-break one in terms of our wedded bliss — Blackie’s style isn’t to force or make ultimatums; he prefers I acquiesce and submit to his desires as softly as a kitten. But if I do not agree, will there be lingering resentment? If so, his — or mine because I will never know the road not taken? Of course, if I do take the plunge, will I like the waters I find myself in?

I tell myself if I knew what his ultimate intentions were, it would be more fair or at least easier to decide… But then I know that’s not what he wants. He wants me to trust in his choices, to submit to them always, no matter how they test me, body and soul. So knowing what his full intentions are would come at the cost of failure to at least trust that far… Which, I suppose means, that if I am to succeed, I must say, “Yes, Sir.”

But I cannot find peace with that yet.

…Though can anyone find peace until after then have made the choice?

The future, my future, is filled with uncertainty.  I know most of the future is just that, uncertain. But times like this, when you are faced with a choice, you know you are responsible for most of what lies ahead and you want to do the right thing.  After all, you are going to have to live with it. And the fact that it was your call. For many submissives, this is one thing they believe they are handing over when they’ve got themselves a Master.  I suppose for a great many of them, that is true. But not all BDSM relationships are so simple.

Ours is a relationship built on less cut-and-dried certitudes.  It’s a more complicated tangle of lifestyle and bedroom choices that we’ve built over time… Perhaps if we had met as Master and subject, the lines would have been more crisp and defined, but the evolution of our relationship wasn’t that way.  It’s been a discovery — and sets of navigations and negotiations along the way. Where we find ourselves is not as neatly defined as many BDSM sites would tell you. This isn’t just fantasy; it’s our reality.  We have to live here, love here.

So now that I’m faced with a situation in which changing things doesn’t just affect the “Lifestyle” of BDSM but rather one which changes our actual style of life — and all that implies in terms of finances, attitudes, daily activities, etc. — I’m stymied.

I have to wrap my head around my feminist ideas of bread-winning equality, public reputation, the dreaded “what if our marriage ends?” and other practical matters and attitudes I’ve held all my life.  I also have to line those ideals up with the actual relationship I am in… What does being submissive and, indeed, being in a submissive lifestyle mean to me — in this specific relationship?  What prices am I willing to pay? What rewards could there be? What is my own personal identity and how do my actions reflect that?

Am I just playing Lifestyle BDSM house? Or am I committed to this relationship, despite all my teachings and beliefs about keeping myself safe as a woman?

It’s one thing to accept spankings, to be woken up after just two hours of sleep to suck cock simply because he says so, or even to subject myself to the sexual orders of another man because he wishes it; but completely another thing to divest myself of my professional identity, of the company I built, to know that he holds the financial power and all the clout which comes with it.

Just how far am I willing to go?

And just how far does Blackie want to take all this?