Every morning, when I wake up, I have a certain routine. One of the things I do is sending him a “good morning” text. Another thing is stating his ownership over me. The words he receives in text, voice message or video, always have the same content.
I am yours Sir. Every action, every thought, every beat of my heart belongs to you. You own me.
Whenever I get to say it out loud, it makes me smile. And when he sees or hears that smile, he points it out. Because it makes him happy as well.
I start my day, every day, with the knowledge that I am his property. I end my days in a similar way. By either asking permission to go to bed or being sent to bed.
What does it mean to be owned by him? To be his property? To belong to him?
I offered myself to him. Of my free will. I chose this and I knew what I was getting myself into.
I serve him in any way that pleases him. So I do tasks, because that is what he wants. I strive to satisfy him, make him proud.
Being his property also means to give up some things or give him control over aspects of my life. Doing as he wishes and asking permission for certain things.
I am his to do as he wants. Serve him coffee, rename me, fuck me when he desires, have me cum for him as often as he likes, spank me… I could go on and on.
I have accepted my position. And I know my place. I am his submissive.
Is that all? Or does being his, being owned has a different side?
My morning routine is not only sending him texts about his ownership. My morning routine is also listening to his voice message that he sends me every night before he falls asleep. (If technology isn’t being a pain in the ass.)
Many of my tasks were given to me, because I asked for his assistance, or to make sure I am well. That actually makes it easier for me than when I set a goal myself. Also, I love tasks, I always have.
By giving him control over parts of my life, I’m not giving that control for life. There are always room for thoughts, discussions and readjustments. And it brings us closer together and makes us part of the other’s every day life.
Whatever he does to me, it is always with love. He always reassures me that he loves me. No matter how he treats me. And he will stop and talk about the situation the moment I want that. Nothing ever will happen against my will.
My place is with him, as his is with me. Guiding me, using me, loving me.
Being owned means feeling safe. Knowing that I am being cared for. Allowing myself to be weak, because he is there the hold me.
Being his property means (just as he said to me not long ago) being his prized possession. And there is a certain way to take care of something like that.