The domesticated Domme

The role of ‘Susie Homemaker’ has never appealed to me.

I hate dishes.
I loathe ironing.
And window washing?! Death by watching paint dry please!

But I’ve found I love vacuuming, it’s soothing. Dusting makes it easy for me to be excited by the visible progress and wiping the kitchen down creates a aura of “win” within me.

This week I’ve gone across the ocean thousands of miles to be with my puppy. And there’s nothing more I want to do than to take care of him. I find myself folding his laundry, packing his away bag, brushing his hair and selecting his outfit each day. And it fills me with such a feeling of accomplishment…sat on top of a mound of dominance.

I feed him by hand, chew his food for him, and restrict certain items after certain times and on certain days. Everything that goes into his body is controlled by me. It wasn’t until recently that I admitted that I am very Motherly with him.

He has called me Mommy for the past few months and I can’t argue that I feel just as titled.

This isn’t in the littles or AB way. It’s just in a caretaker way. It’s another way for me to dominate him. It’s a way for him to show his submission to me.

When he has lost his glasses I am there to find them.
When he is getting road rage I am there to calm him.
When he can’t decide on what to eat I make the decision for him.

Does this make me any less of a domme?

I don’t think so.

I’ve come to find the entire arrangement very suitable for us. I would be lying if I tried to deny the erotic charge that fills me each time he wakes up in his sleeping whispering…

“Mommy, I need you,” as he snuggles close against my warm body.

And I’ve come to feel safe saying, “I need you too.”