What Makes D/s Real

What Makes D/s Real

“You need to get your windshield wipers replaced.”

“Nah, they’re fine.”

“No. You aren’t listening. You will get your windshield wipers replaced. Order on Amazon by Monday or go buy them before Wednesday. I want new windshield wipers on your car by Wednesday.”

Whoa. This is different. She’s never taken control like this before. Are those heart bubbles flying out of my ears?

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

That night, she had bathed me, collared me, beaten me, dressed me, and done my makeup before we were headed to a party. “My little doll,” she called me. And still, this moment in my car was the most submissive I’d felt all night. In fact, it was the most submissive I’d felt in our relationship so far. 

Up to this point, she felt like my girlfriend who topped me, but not my Dominant. But this time, it wasn’t about play. It wasn’t an area where we’d discussed in advance and I’d explicitly given her control. It came out of her desire to protect me. It was the first time she took control because she felt responsible for me—not as part of a scene but in everyday life. 

Still, it was just a moment. I wasn’t sure whether she’d remember or follow through. But on Tuesday, she asked if I’d ordered the wipers. 

Shit. I’d meant to do it the day before, but Monday got busy, and I forgot. So I hurried up and ordered them.

“Yes, I ordered them.”

“When?”

Shit. “Today.”

“Was that what I said?”

“Well…”

“You had two options: order them online by Monday or buy them in person by Wednesday. You did neither of those things. So now you’re going to cancel that order. You’re going to leave for the auto parts store. You’re going to tell me when you leave to drive there, when you arrive, when you leave, and when you are home. You’re going to buy the wipers. And then you’re going to put your collar on and spend the rest of your night writing lines.”

She remembered. She noticed. She held me accountable. This is real. 

All at once, I felt that gut-wrenching feeling of having disappointed her and the warmth of being cared for and kept. I didn’t enjoy the punishment, but I appreciated it. She showed me that she saw me and that my needs mattered. By the end of the night, I had new wipers and 100 lines of, “I will care for my Dominant’s property however she sees fit.” And I meant it.  

It’s not formal rules and protocol that make D/s real. It’s not the kneeling or the spanking or the oral service. It’s the everyday moments where Dominants and submissives care for one another through power exchange—when one nurtures through leading and the other nurtures through following. This is when I feel loved in exactly the way I need most.