In the beginning there was a contract. Daddy wrote it when he proposed the power exchange. I can't really remember everything it said, but I clearly remember there being a contract. Somewhere along the way it was replaced with an unspoken agreement and a bracelet that locks around my wrist, but I know there once was that contract.
You see, I had a little bit of sub frenzy when Daddy gave me that contract. And I think I forgot to read some of the fine print.
Oh, I have so much to learn.
Like when it comes to gift giving. Daddy is beyond generous with gifts. Like out of this world thoughtfully generous. Like all my friends now think he's some super gift giving hero, and when I post on Facebook how great my husband is, they don't ask 'Did you get hacked?'. Instead they ask 'What did he get you?'.
I should be super happy about this -- right?
Well I am. And I'm thankful too. And grateful. And very very lucky. But I'm also super annoyed. Because now they want to know what I'm getting him.
Daddy controls all the money. All the money. I have to ask to spend any of it -- even a dollar. And while, he's generous here too and rarely denies me what I want and need, when I ask to buy him something he's tightens up fast. Oh, I can get money out of him for the kids to shop with, but me...uh...nope.
He's a happy man, he'll say. He has everything he wants. And if he doesn't, he'll go out and buy it himself.
This year he really outdid himself and when I whined to my writer friends that I had no money to get him anything, they offered up their suggestions.
Member to the blow job club for a month?
He already has the lifetime membership.
VIP membership - no line, no cover, and no reciprocation?
Well I stopped there because I didn't want to admit he already has that too.
I guess I'll keep looking for that contract in hopes there was a loophole somewhere. I've still got a week til christmas.