Household Slavery – Personal thoughts

Household duties are important. They always have been – I remember being a teenager and being extremely messy…my room was a mess, I left plates and dishes all over the place – hated doing laundry. And yet now…cleaning, doing dishes, doing laundry have become an almost sexual experience for me. Leashed, collared, usually my knees and elbows hobbled with short chains, rope, or spreader bars. I scuttle around the house on my hands and knees – cleaning the floors with small brush…sometimes I even make it worst for myself and hold a sponge or a swiffer towel in my mouth and force myself to clean and entire room’s floor in that manner.

When I saw Elizabeth’s slavery I instantly got wet, because of the correlation to my own life I suppose.

Cleanliness requires discipline. Master by nature isn’t a neat freak, but I know he loves a nice clean desk, and open rooms with little clutter – and its a great pleasure for me to provide him that space, I know he works hard to sustain me and the other pets. When I was in my teens I used to look down on housewives…how dare they rely on men! How dare they stay at home while the men get to go out and live their lives! I’ve realised that all that is bullshit teen angst. Relationships are a partnership, my particular relationship even though I am used, abused, beaten, enslaved, and taken advantage of – its a partnership because I provide Master with things he can’t provide himself, and he provides me with the lifestyle that I need. I could not be a whole person if I were to live out an average lifestyle, or any other lifestyle – interesting or not. This is the only lifestyle I could ever live! And just like a housewife I rely on things that my man can provide me, and just like a housewife I provide many things that he cannot, or is simply too tired to do himself.

All this brings up an interesting element though…am I really a slave? He works tremendously hard to buy all the BDSM gear that he uses to make me happy (well it makes him happy too so maybe its a moot point!) and to put food in 3 dog dishes lined up on the floor in the kitchen for me and the other pets. Am I the slave? is the petslave a slave? is the houseslave a slave? Or is he the slave? Is going out into the world and working your hand to the bone more freedom than the lifestyle I live? Completely happy with my life, not a care in the world. Sure my body is put through pain and suffering, but I like that pain and suffering so really its not pain at all, by definition.

I understand why he acquired a puppy slave, and I’m not jealous anymore…I’m far past that – I’ve become something completely new…I am like the eldest child in an average home. I take care of and help guide the newer slave, I take care of the puppyslave, who at this moment is actually holding her leash in her mouth and scratching at the door…Its odd to think theres a person in there, not a dog…its hard to think that they can think, and talk, and calculate…yet shes whining at me, in a dog’s tone, leash in mouth…of course her hands have been bound so that her fingers are useless and can’t operate things, such as doors, latches and leashes, but if she really wanted could probably manage to open that door…yet she doesn’t.

Is it worth trying to understand? Or should we just enjoy it? I can’t stand those eyes looking at me anymore begging…I know the feeling too well of whining to be allowed to pee so I’m going to let her out!