Just so you can understand what I’m working with here, I present to you the text(s) The Pedant sent me after our last visit, when I was at work and he stayed behind a while and let himself out. (I had texted him telling him to help himself to the trout and salad stuff in the fridge if the food I left specifically for him wasn’t enough, and also asking him to check my mail because I’d gotten an email notice that my latest sex toy had arrived – and inviting him to open it up and take a look)
I appreciate you letting me sleep. 🙂
The sausage and maki were plenty, and I had a can of San Pellegrino as a power-up. 😀
I picked up your package from the front step and it’s waiting on your coffee table in the living room. I’ve declined to open it – partly because opening up someone else’s mail is a criminal offence.
Any packages of food I found on the kitchen floor are now in the refrigerator.
I swept the floors in the kitchen and living room. The floor in the kitchen held several small items like allen keys, and I had no idea what was trash versus not-trash, so I left what I swept up in a pile in the corner near the stove.
Oh, and I filled the sink with soapy water to soak the dishes, along with the frying pan in order to soak that. There aren’t any knives in the sink this time* – I put the one I found in a cup to soak, blade-down.
He’s totes presenting these things to me like a waggy puppy waiting for me to tell him he’s a good boy, amirite?!? I mean I didn’t even ask him to do any of those things (either specifically or in a general “It would be neat if you cleaned up my apartment sometimes” way) except for checking the mail. The rest was all him taking initiative and then telling me all about what he did as if he couldn’t bear to wait for me to get home and discover it myself; he wanted my approval now.
Truth be told, I have begun thinking of him as submissive-to-me-outside-the-bedroom. I know I’m not supposed to, since there’s been no explicit consent. And I don’t feel we’re at a point where I could casually say “Hey, sweep my floor, would you?” and he’d cheerfully hop to it (although I can’t picture him outright saying no, either. Maybe more like doing it while secretly feeling as though I’d overstepped). Giving orders might be pushing my luck. But he knows that, in a general sense, I want a submissive who does some domestic chores – and he’s been doing domestic chores. And when I said that those gestures make me weak in the knees, he said he knew that. So…dude is trying to impress me. He’s being all about the anticipatory service, lately, in his limited way.
And so I’ve been daydreaming that The Pedant is not just a submissive, but the kind of submissive who thrives on giving service. I daydream that when he puts my dirty dishes in the sink or shuffles the mail on my hall shelf into a neat pile and I praise him, he feels as though things have fallen perfectly into place for him and he is fulfilled and at peace. I daydream that the only reason he hasn’t given me full permission to control him domestically is that he can’t yet see how his manhood and submission can coexist. But one day, ideally, he’ll realize how I see him – as an amazing strong intelligent man whose resources I harness sometimes and feel damned lucky for the opportunity. A man over whom I could rule while still snarking at him, debating with him, and still asking his advice, as one usually does with a smart/interesting/challenging person. I would not think of him as a doormat or weak or less-than. I’d just think of him as mine.
I daydream of him cooking me food.
I daydream of him actually washing my dishes instead of just leaving them to soak**.
I daydream of asking him to kneel for me when we’re not about to have sex, and him doing so without hesitation.
I daydream of demanding “Tell me you’re mine” while I’m fucking him, and him saying “Yes. I’m yours.”***
Maybe one day.
*On previous visits he left dishes to soak but put my knife right in there. Which was annoying because I only have the one, and I use it all the time – I’d always end up having to very carefully rummage for it in the cloudy water. Also I used to work foodservice and I know that it’s dangerous to put a knife into dishwater like that for exactly that reason – someone might find it the hard way. I texted The Pedant telling him this and he called me a few minutes later because he was worried I’d cut myself. So sweet. ❤
**What’s up with that? He did wash them once, when he volunteered to help me clean my apartment a few years back. But since then it seems like he feels that’s…too invasive a thing to do in someone else’s house, or something? He basically told me that outright about cooking – he feels weird cooking in someone else’s place. Even though I’ve invited him to.
***That, I may actually set about achieving soon. I intend to explain to him in the near future how it turns me on to think of a boy as “mine” but that this doesn’t mean monogamy, it simply means he gives me a certain amount of devotion when he’s with me. After that I imagine I could make dirty-talk demands and he’d go with it.