I’ve longed to see Daddy wear a kilt for what seems like forever. To me, kilts are my own idea of the epitome of domliness. It’s my fantasy for everything dark, intense, and hot. I know it’s not reality to throw a kilt on and call yourself a dominant. But damn, he’s got adorable legs and I have a thing for men in dresses. Right now though, that’s one thing that will need to remain firmly in the realm of fantasy. I’m ok with that. We’ll come back to it again.
While talking this morning, Daddy joked in his “domleh voice” that “his voice wears a kilt”. I thought about it and said, yeah, sometimes it does. But I don’t always answer to that voice. Which naturally got me wondering about relationships that were based upon those kilted voices, and the submissive's lack of one. In any relationship, people may ask any questions they’d like. But having a kilt doesn’t entitle them to receive the answers. At least not those that aren’t part of the negotiated bargain. I started to wonder why some submissives felt the need to answer every question asked by those kilted voices, and very often ended up regretting not sticking their fingers in their ears.
Relationships built on voices, which seem to me the way many online D/s ones are conducted, have fascinated me for some time. I’ve read threads where what I thought were probably pretty normal, ordinary, smart, women fall for some really awful bullshit and that they had lost their freakin minds. I’ve read threads where women, caught up in the thrill of webcams, texting, chatting, and immersion in the mechanics of D/s, didn’t quite understand that this isn’t for the weak of will. Predators and abusers can and will find online relationships and do everything possible to make you question yourself, your motives, your other relationships, your intelligence, and even your sanity. What’s interesting to me, is that it seems a lot of the women posting online have more of a need to jump into the experience D/s, than they do to understand why they do some of the things they agree to without any sort of boundaries.
Unfortunately, the online experience seems to be rather disappointing for many. It’s as if they’re trying to live up to the fantasy, hearing the kilt, and forgetting that when all is said and done, they’ve got to shut off the computer and live with their decisions. And sometimes those decisions, made when listening to the voice in the kilt, aren’t exactly the best ones. How many times have I wondered about those women who willingly give up bank account information, passwords, family secrets, and more, to a voice wearing a kilt and wanted to just shake them out of their ennui? Are people so hungry to experience the Chateau, that they don’t realize that the books leave out too much information to truly be useful as a guide?
I can imagine sitting at a computer screen, pouring out my fears, my dreams, my dirty nasty little secret fantasies to a kind, caring, attentive dominant. I’ve done it. Listening to his voice behind the words we typed, running my own fingers along my neck where he’d put them the last time we were together. Talking to him, flirting with him. Before we lived together, Daddy and I spent a lot of time online. It was easier to tell him when things are bothering me when I was typing them. But our conversations always had context. I knew I’d see him in a few days, I’d touch him, and we’d be together. The online was a supplement to, not a substitute for, our relationship. But while I was pouring my life out into the computer screen, I would always feel as if something was missing. I heard his voice in my head while we were talking online. But it never wore the kilt.
I’ve known Daddy for nearly two years. We’ve been living together for almost six months. In all that time, there’s never been a Chateau. There has never been the bodice-ripping, non-consent, romantic overpowering thrills found in the novels (although he has cut off some underwear a few times). There has been step-by-step negotiating, adding things when we were both ready, and removing things that didn’t work after we’d tried them. Our relationship hasn’t been static nor has it been all fun and games. We still talk online sometimes. Because we’re not together all day, every day, checking in online is a nice way to show that we’re thinking about each other. Sometimes we just check plans. But often, we just leave the chat window up while we’re doing other things.
But even though we live together, there are still boundaries that we haven’t negotiated around yet. I can’t imagine getting caught up in the kilt so much that I’d lose myself. My submission doesn’t need to be deepened. It’s as deep as it’s ever going to be. The levels of control Daddy and I may negotiate may expand, but my submission is secondary to my common sense. Daddy owns me in every sense of the word. But he’ll be the first to tell you that he’ll never be able to force me to do anything I refuse to do, nor to feel my emotions any way except how I do.
Daddy doesn’t want to control some things, nor do I wish to cede control of them. Someday maybe that’ll change. Maybe it won’t. Either way, we’ll still have our D/s relationship. It’s never an all or nothing. Probably the only time in my own life where it’s not. Yes, we share many things, especially when it comes to family, but even then, we do that without the kilt. There are some things that we try not to discuss within our D/s relationship. Sometimes he doesn’t need his submissive. Sometimes he just needs me to be there. As his girlfriend.
This is what online submission misses, I think. The negotiation, the concentration, and the sheer amount of WORK that goes into making a D/s relationship work. I can’t just shut off the computer screen and put an end to the voice in the kilt. It’s when I shut off the screen and listen to his unkilted voice, the voice when he just needs his girlfriend to be there with him, that is the reality of submission.
It’s the test of whether or not we can live with ourselves when the power goes off.