A question...well a series of them at least!

We talk a lot. I like to think of myself as a good communicator. Maybe, maybe not. But one of my favorite subjects is myself. Surprise! LOL! I guess my view of myself can be a bit different than what others see. If only they could see the inside of me, what I am really thinking, they would run off screaming in fear and horror!
There are of course things that we do not see in ourselves that others do. The Greeks called it the tragic flaw, basing tragic plays on a persons inability to see the flaw that becomes their downfall. So getting that melodramatic point out, I was actually floored by knottygirl's rather innocuous statement about myself that until she mentioned it, I never really knew that about myself and our relationship.
What she said was that I was the nurturer and she wasn't.
...hmmmm...
Never did I think about that, never did I see it in me. But it's true. So it it's been a day now, and I find myself asking the question: Can a Nurturer be a Master?
I'm not one to go with labels but this is more of an exercise for my mental agility. Would a nurturer be more of a submissive role in a relationship? Can I be both? Or must one take a backseat to the other?

Almost accomplished it!

Well our anniversary went well. She really appreciated my posting about treating the event as a vanilla day. We were- Husband and Wife until....

We finally visited the De Young museum in GG Park. It was evening and as well. We tried to find our way through the maze that they call modern design, the empty galleries, the quiet hushed tones, the works of art, that just seemed to bring the eroticism out of her.
Soon the kisses became longer, more passionate, and instinctively, she offered me her wrists, behind her back, for me to lock down, hold, and guide her through the exhibits. Gone was the happy, equal couple looking at art, in its place was the Master and slave looking for the next deserted quiet corner where they could play.

It actually was a little more difficult than I had thought, trying to spend the day together as a vanilla couple! There were a few times where I had to censor myself before speaking to her, pull myself back into husband mode, not Master mode. She too missed her Master and within the white halls with noisy hardwood, she welcomed her Master to consume her yet again, to take her and possess her being!
We almost made it a whole day, but the Master came out to take control as the sun went down!

The fine blend of vanilla and kink

Our wedding anniversary is coming up. That's our wedding, not our "collaring" anniversary. So it's normally during these times where I have to be a little careful with distinguishing between a vanilla celebration that jst doesn't go too well with our kink lifestyle.
Things have been progressing very well lately. Knottygirl refers to me almost exclusively as Master and I to her as slave. The big scary pervert that she thought her Master was turned out to be a, well a big pervert, but the scariness, wasn't quite what she had imagined. I think a lot of her acceptance in her has been because of the attention I pay her now. She has always been quite submissive, but I have always tried to treat her as an equal partner both in and out of the bedroom. Outside the bedroom we are more or less equal, aside from the occasional order, spank or overruling I may give. Now, the hunger and passion has returned to both of us, and I know that she is enjoying this ride.
So does this make her a slave and me a Master? Well to me it does! And I guess that's what really matters.
But on our wedding anniversary, we once again become husband and wife. Two people, two partners, two best friends that surprisingly have been able to share a life for a longer time than any of their friends thought they would.
It is one of those few days, where slave has asked in the past to let her share the day with her husband and not her Master. It's important to her, and until she says otherwise, hubby will be showing her a nice romantic fun time!

What is his real name? To you he is Master.

You call out to him from the other room.
He doesn't answer.
You know he can hear you, yet he doesn't answer.
You get up and go into the room, ask again.
He looks at you but doesn't respond.
You sigh.
You ask again, this time you call him Master.
He answers your question.
Little by little, your life as you knew it,
before he sucked you into this lifestyle is disappearing.
When was the last time you called him by his real name?
What is his real name?
To you he is Master.
And the crazy thing is, as each day goes by,
it's easier and easier to call him that.
In your words, in your writing, in your thoughts.
The sadistic bastard, he's always a few steps ahead of you,
pushing and pulling you deeper into the abyss.
What was once dark and cold from the outside looking in
now is warm, sexy and comforting.
Why was I ever afraid of this to begin with?
How did he know I would take to this?
How does he know what to do to me?
What to push in me?
What to prod in me?
What not to do TO me?
He is Master. I am slave.
I accept that, deeper by the day.