But the lightbulb has got to want to change.
I’m a bit of a firm believer in the idea that you can’t change a person. Although I realise that environment can shape the type of person someone grows up to be, I don’t think you can change someone after a certain age – and certainly not when they’re very resistant to doing things in any way but their own.
M pissed me off today. It started at the petrol station when he suddenly started shouting at me because he thought I was going to put diesel in the rangie. I don’t know what he thought he saw, but I was standing there calmly holding the unleaded petrol nozzle while his booming voice echoed through the petrol station, “Hang on! Stop!! What have you got??? …Oh…ok…(*unintelligible mutterings as he gets back in the car*)” But I could feel the other people filling their cars staring at me and as I got back in the car after paying, not a word of apology or anything was forthcoming from the M.
Then we went shopping for a collar. I decided I wanted something a little more industrial (read: obvious and more humiliating) so we headed to the pet shop. We selected a choke chain after trying on several sizes to see what would probably give enough clearance at night-time. Then he got his eye on a big, wide, studded leather collar that was hanging next to the choke chains.
“I thought you might like this one too,” he says eyeing it with collar lust.
“But it’s $67!!”
“Aren’t I worth that much??”
So of course I had to buy it. I got Mistress-shamed into buying an overly expensive, superfluous collar as effectively as three screaming kids begging a frazzled mother for chocolate at the supermarket. I don’t see the point in having two collars as I don’t intend his industrial pet collar to come off, but I bought the damn thing anyway.
Then we got home and as I was putting the groceries away and cleaning up, he was happily snipping the tags off his collars and rummaging around in the draw for padlocks. Before I even knew what was happening he had the choke collar padlocked on and a “Come hither and play with me!” look on his face.
So I told him the padlock wasn’t doing much for me (it didn’t have the right industrial look) and ignored his obvious wants. After everything was put away I told him I was going to have a bath because (a) I wasn’t feeling well (plague) and (b) I was incredibly sore (nazi gym instructor on Friday night).
I was in the bath for ten minutes before he charged in and gave me his ideas for removing a couple of links to make the collar smaller. I said he’d need to lie down so we could check the size. To which he said, ‘Oh, I thought we might do that after your bath’ with that come-hither look on his face again then he left me in peace.
Until five minutes later when he came in wearing his new studded leather collar and asked me how it looked.
“Where’s the key to my padlock?’ he asked.
“Well, I thought I’d take it off and see if I could remove a couple of the links.”
GO AND LIE THE FUCK DOWN AND SEE HOW IT FITS BEFORE YOU FUCKING DO ANYTHING or something to that effect was my response.
I think he got the idea that I wanted to be left alone in the bath because he didn’t come in again.
Over the next fifteen minutes in the bath I fumed and cussed and worked myself into a tizzy about how selfish he was and thinking he was a lost cause as a slave.
When I got out of the bath and dressed, I went to find him and he was still laying on his bed. I threw the blindfold at him – he put it on- and I told him to lay on his stomach. Then I roped his legs to the bed and went medieval on his ass.
Well, I’m sure he felt that I did, but I doubt he’ll even have a mark. But more importantly I hope he learned a lesson in patience and less me-me-me-me-me!!!. I had him write 250 words about his two lessons of the day, but his second-to-last paragraph included the line:
This means that an owner needs to instruct and train a slave as to what their pleasures are and to ensure a slave understands how to fulfill those needs…
which cracked me up.
When I pointed out that it again sounded like he was telling me what to do, he shrugged and said,
“Well, that’s not what I meant.”
And he got up and left.
No ‘Oh, I’m sorry you interpreted it that way’ or ‘Oh, ok, I’ll change it so it doesn’t sound so self-centred’…Nope…I got zip.
At this stage, I’m not sure whether he understands what he is doing and doesn’t give a shit, or whether he doesn’t understand what he is doing and still doesn’t give a shit.
Either way, he doesn’t give a shit because that is the way he rolls.
So I figure I have to accept it, because if he don’t wanna change, he ain’t gonna change.