When?

I have another post that I need to write, one about Friday night, but I haven't been able to do it yet. Instead, I answered a journal prompt:

-Rana- on Fetlife asked, When did you know that you were a slave? How? Do you think that slavery comes naturally to you? Or is it more of a learned skill/mindset? Was there a period of struggling with yourself? If so, why? Did you know that you were a slave before you met your Master?

Having the word slave and knowing where I am happiest are two different things. Accepting the word slave is STILL a fight for me.

There were hints throughout my life that I was service-orientated. I fought it...I wanted to be a tomboy, a toughie, cool...but I delighted in helping my teachers or dusting my mom's room. I excelled in taking care of the family when mom was in the hospital and stepped into her shoes when she died. At 15, my father made a comment about how I had become a little domestic, and I took it as an insult.

I met Beloved when I was 18, and he introduced me to Vampire: The Masquerade where I was his Child (yes, you can laugh). His character was strong, powerful, influential, and deeply involved in the plots, and I clung to that. I was his arm candy, his messenger, his pupil. Long after we left the game, I tapped into the relationship he and I had, especially when I needed reassurance.

We married when I was 19, and went to college. There, I was the one who delved into student politics, pushed him through deadlines, encouraged him to follow his interests in arts. But whenever I got in over my head, Beloved was there to catch me, to back me up, to cover my ass. He'd scold me afterwards, holding me and letting me cry out my frustrations.

That was where our relationship stayed for years...through college, into the "real world". All of my jobs involved serving the community, usually in some kind of political manner. Environmental works, healthcare advocacy, teaching. It wasn't until I was 30 and gave up everything (my career, my "power", my financial rewards system) and became a stay-at-home mom that I crumbled completely.

I begged Beloved to consider D/s because I needed to serve, to feel I was doing a good job, to know that I made a difference. He was reluctant, mostly because his exposure had been in humiliation play. He couldn't imagine doing such things to me.

I continued to look for the words that might explain who I was, what I needed. I stumbled on the code d' odalisque, and that was closer...although we didn't have the luxury of excusing me from housework. But within that description is the word slave.

I do not like the title...there is too much historical baggage for me to be comfortable calling myself a slave. However, in the lifestyle, it is closest to an accurate description.

I am pixie. I am owned and collared by Saul, who is my protector and Master. I care for our house and our children. I make decisions on his behalf. I am his arm candy, his messenger, his canvas. I am his slave.