a neighbor’s comment

When I was in Colorado last time, I remember a question that one of the neighbors asked at the tea. I was in the kitchen assembling the tiered server with mini-scones. (We have taken to these smaller bite-sized pastries over the larger ones. People seem to be hesitant to take the full-sized scones — they are big — not wanting so much, and they feel it inappropriate to break off just a part of one. So, the mini-scones are more popular at the tea, although Amanda and I are sure that folks eat more “scone” in total with the minis.)

One of the neighbors had used the bathroom and upon her return stopped briefly in the kitchen to ask me this question: “Is it hard for you back in Pennsylvania, not being in your place as you are here? I mean, as a sex slave.”

I answered her, saying that yes, out in PA, I miss Amanda, of course, and I feel a little aimless. I spoke of my mother and how that was a lot to deal with yet rewarding — all things I’ve expressed here on the blog — but I added something about feeling in my submissive life in CO that I have purpose, which is missing in PA.

My response was something like that, and it didn’t go any further, as the time was brief and the moment had passed. But since then, I have recalled that conversation, thinking it notable in several ways.

Primarily, I find it interesting that this neighbor had used the term “sex slave” to identify me. This is in fact true of me, of course, and I don’t feel any anguish over her using it of me. Her tone was genuine and friendly. It just made me realize how far this neighbor has come in understanding this lifestyle and what I am. And I have to assume others have evolved to some depth of awareness about me as well.

I also find it notable that she felt comfortable calling me a sex slave in front of me. Not only does she understand (and seemingly accept) that I am a woman living in a submissive life that is quite openly sexual, but that I am myself comfortable being addressed as such. She assumed (correctly) that I wouldn’t be offended by her calling me a sex slave to my face. I think it takes some maturity and comprehension to use the term casually with me as a point of description not disparagement.

It is apparent to me that in my absence for most of eight months, Amanda has maintained and furthered relationships with the neighborhood. She has continued the monthly teas. Social butterfly that she is, she’s socialized with them in their homes, parties and summer BBQs and such. I have to think Amanda has, in her understated way, been creating in them a mind-space of increased acceptance of us, and of me in absentia.

This one neighbor’s comment makes me think that, during my hiatus, they all have had more time to assimilate the oddity that Amanda and I initially represented, to normalize us in their minds, and to accept what I am, a sex slave, as more natural and relational than pornographic.

In my mused remembering of this, I have wondered if any of the men in the neighborhood would have likewise called me a sex slave. I don’t know. I welcome readers’ thoughts on this.

My sense of it in general is that men are eager to imagine me as a sex slave, but may be less likely to call me that to my face. Dominant men, yes, they call me what they will, but the average guy in our neighborhood group is a corporate professional likely schooled in some workplace sensitivities. So, maybe they think of me in disparaging words but are more civil to me in my presence.

Many women are also corporate professionals, but I have to think that sometimes they are threatened by me as a sex slave around their men. However, perhaps in time they find some satisfaction in calling me a “sex slave,” as it puts me in my place, so to speak. (Although this particular neighbor woman was not using the term “sex slave” in a demeaning way.)

The other thing of note in this woman’s comment was her phrase “not being in your place as you are here.” Again, her tone was one of friendly interest not spite or derogation.

It was interesting (and satisfying) to me that she understood I have a “place” of submissive status and that it’s something I need — such that I would miss it in PA. All of that is true, and it impressed me she seemed to get it, all of this, about me.

I realize I may be making too much of this one snippet of conversation, but there’s one more thing. I sensed in this woman’s approach to me a sense of ownership.

It may be something like a daughter going off to college then returning, and friends and neighbors adopting a kind of protective, knowing interest in her. It is like I am now their golden girl in some strange way, sent away into the world, now returned. Her comment carried the possessive sense of “we know what you are, what you need, and how that’s hard for you, but now we’re glad you’re back… in your place.”

I don’t resist this or take it in a bad way. It’s rather sweet, actually.

But it all suggests to me that, as I return to Colorado, to my place of submission, the neighbors are not the same as when I left them. Their view of me has evolved, matured.

They are no longer just watching my slavery, but starting to assume a kind of verbal participation in it.

Interesting, but I don’t know what this means.

6 thoughts on “a neighbor’s comment

  1. What are you?
    I think this is difficult to define, are you addicted to getting, having, sex every day. Slave of the sex, then it is your desire, hunger or urge that must be satisfied.
    Or to give sex to whoever wants to spend time with you. If the latter is the case, you could have a title of sex worker, carer or therapist. This is the term that no one raises an eyebrow at.
    Or if you are a commodity, then the term sex slave fits. Like going to the brothel or online and making an appointment to be treated by a sex worker. So it is us on the outside who in our imagination can define you in different ways, positive and or negative terms.
    We know you’re not the last.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. thank you for such an insightful comment. yes, I think I am all of the above. I wish to be “valued” as a submissive, and I accept that I am a sex slave. I don’t think I am addicted to sex, but I know others think I am… I myself think well of sex workers, but much of our country doesn’t — and actually, for me, providing sex for money is a step up, so to speak, from providing sex for nothing…. I am a commodity, yes, and accept myself being treated as such… most of all, I am not understood by most people. But I live with that reality… your comment, Sir, is most wise.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I think you have created in at least this neighbor, aperson who gets you and maybe even a little jealous as She sees your freedom of you being you. Not judging you but understanding and accepting. maybe even understanding that when you are in PA , you can’t be the “real” Shae(sex slave, sub). That you become care giver Shae.
    As for the men, espeacailly those in the corporate world. Yes having to be tongue tied so as not to offend anyone with their words. I don’t know that i could call you a sex slave in the same situation as familiar with you as your blog let’s the readers know you. Maybe if we were at a BDSM club or gathering. Where one can be free to be one’s self. Just my 2 cents .

    Liked by 1 person

    1. sindee, such a great comment… and so sorry I haven’t responded sooner… I think you are right, sindee. I see in her an effort to adopt the reality of my lifestyle and use some of its terminology. I respect that. It takes time for vanilla people to be comfortable in what we have had years to become comfortable in ourselves. She is trying out some of this.

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s