"I feel sorry for every other married couple on the planet."

The title above is something Mrs Fillmore said to me this morning. We had a nice, slow morning. We probably woke up at 6 or 6:30, well she woke up then. I was awake before her, luxuriating in the joy of watching her sleep while I was secured to bed next to her. She was wearing her periwinkle slip with pale blue lace, and looked so beautiful.

When she did wake, we talked and kissed for a while, and she played with my nipples. She had released me from my cuffs, and our hands explored each other's bodies.

I love her giggle. It's a really wonderful, joyful sound, one that projects her ability to be happy and exist in the moment. We must've been together like that for at least 45 minutes, because it was full light and the traffic outside was busier when she pulled away and told me to turn over. It was a little uncomfortable because I was so aroused, but I dealt with it in silence as she cuffed my wrists close to the headboard, not with the spacer that gave me room to turn over which we used for sleeping. Then she pulled my ankles down and cuffed each to opposite corners of the bed.

I heard her moving around for a little bit, and then I felt her red gel vibrator push up against my rosebud. I opened to her and she slid it in, and I kept it in as she got ready for her day. She doesn't generally tell me her plans, and the old Millard would've been desperate to know. The new Millard just enjoys the moment, in this case maintaining just the right amount of tension on the vibrator to keep it in me. To much and I would squirt it out. Too little and it would slide out.

She took a shower, and I heard her running the hair dryer. It was a really pleasant experience, being exactly where she wanted me, how she wanted me, as she took care of her own needs. She has been getting better at it, and I have enjoyed her procession into empowerment.

When she did come back, the vibrator was still in me, but only just, and she popped it back in with that giggle I mentioned, pushing it through the covers. When she had finished tending to her needs, she pulled out the vibrator and took off my bonds.

We made love then. Delicious, sensuous lovemaking I won't relate here, but when it was over and we were intertwined on our bed, kissing and caressing each other, I told her how I was changing, and how much I loved it. I had always thought we would not progress into actual servitude, the "her using me as an ottoman" stage, but I told her I could see that surrender in my future, if that was her choice. I told her there were no limits to my devotion, and thanked her for clearing my mind out so I could focus on her.

She did not giggle then, but rather took me seriously, and stroked my face and told me she knew, that she did own me, and that it was an amazing gift and solemn responsibility.

We kissed some more, and then she said what I used as the title. She was referring to complete openness of our love life, our willingness to do anything with one another to give each other joy and pleasure, and how she felt sorry for couples that would or could not know that joy. I understood her meaning to be much deeper, though. It wasn't just about the sex. It was also about the utter devotion we have toward one another. It is about the fact that she can count on me. We got up and got moving, following our morning routine.

As she drove away she sent me a message (yes, using voice to text!) "Where do I find the words for this morning? Even if I have a Thesaurus in my head I would not be able to give the moments we shared in _MY_ (emphasis mine) bed justice. Just the fact that I can leap out of bed at 8:15 and say I need to be gone in 20 minutes and know I will be leaving with my belly full of breakfast and my bag full of lunch, all by your hand ... gives me such inexplicable joy." And later: "As I'm driving and I'm thinking about how our roles have reversed because I really did spend all those years completely devoted to you and your happiness. I only wish we would've had an open conversation about it or that you were emotionally cognizant enough to handle it. Because it often left me feeling used and alone. Which was the opposite of how I felt when I was doing the things I did for you. I'm glad you're getting this wonderful, well-rounded experience and I'm glad it brings both of us so much joy." And that is the truth. Joy. A joyful life. If I ever write a book about this experience and our process of emotional development, that would be the title of it. Every moment thus far has held joy, or at least the anticipation of joy. God bless you Mrs. Fillmore.