Adventures in "leashing" (E)

Artwork courtesy of Laurent Lebeau

Busy day around the house yesterday, with lots of chores, duties, and things to do.

As is the tradition when my Goddess and I are at home but not spending the whole time together, she will clip my house leash to the central D-ring of my locked leather collar. The house leash is 50' long, tied to one of the posts of the bed, and it is holds much significance, and more than a little affection, for both of us.

The symbolism of the leash is multi-faceted. It is an instrument of control... easily allowing my Goddess to control or direct my actions, or know where I am or what I'm doing. It is a signal for service... my Goddess giving it a few tugs, or pulling it in until I appear, and this is usually followed by a request for something. It is a brush for the expression of my Goddess' dominance... giving me room, or taking it away, but always in a position to decide which it will be.

In a slapstick comedy kind of way, the leash can also be a real hazard. While I'm busy doing something, if I complete a turn instead of undoing it, the leash will wrap around my ankles. Sometimes I'll get up from a sitting position or one where I'm bent over, and realize that I can't straighten up any more because I accidentally stepped on the leash. Or that my Goddess stepped on the leash.

I have to be careful not to have the leash swing inside the oven if I'm putting something in or taking it out. I try to hold the leash in one hand to control it better if I'm moving something heavy or vacuuming. I try to keep the leash over my shoulder when I'm washing dishes or cleaning counter tops.

The leash will get caught in the straps of my locked leather ankle cuffs or locked leather wrist cuffs. The leash will get caught over furniture and under doors, around chairs and through whatever may be on the floor, shortening my range and forcing me to come back and fix it. My Goddess had a good laugh yesterday when the leash found some jeans that had fallen to the floor, the leash looped around them, and as I was off to prepare some coffee for her, the jeans made their way across the room.

The washing machine is the single furthest thing in the house for me when I'm wearing the leash. I can just barely reach over to its controls, and to pull clothes out to transfer them to the dryer, I have to make sure the leash is on my right side, not the left, otherwise I'll be left short. Washing machine duty can also be the most surprising. Occasionally, I don't notice that the leash got caught somewhere until the last second, and focused on the tasks at hand, I'll get jerked just a few feet short of usual range. I then feel like one of those cartoon dog characters running after someone or something, and then landing on their backs after getting to the end of their leash.

But all the trouble is well worth it when I see the wonderful and deliciously dominant smile of my Goddess when I show up before her, after she has summoned me with the leash. It's well worth the trouble knowing that my Goddess needs me for something when she pulls on the leash. It's worth even more than any trouble when my Goddess uses the leash to pull me in close to her, and I can feel, no, I am overwhelmed by, her control and her dominance.

And I'd more than happy to wear the leash just for the pleasure, and moments of humor, it provides my Goddess.