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With My Own Hands
We are in a loving, respectful, and fully consensual Female Led Relationship. That part of our relationship is simple. She makes all the big decisions, the kinds of decisions that will impact the family's finances, our well-being, essentially anything more significant than what to wear, or what's for dinner. If we buy a car in the future, I will give my input, and Mrs. Fillmore will decide. If I am going to spend more than $20, I check in with her. That last is MY rule for myself. Profligacy is a weakness of mine, so I'll be going overboard to correct it until I'm more comfortable with my decision-making abilities.
The other part of the FLR that is simple is that we will both work toward her happiness. It is my focus, and it colors nearly everything I do. The only aspect of my life that does not carry this as a primary driver of my actions is my professional focus. I must make decisions for work that do not take her comfort first. I might be late for work, or have to leave before taking care of her needs in the morning (breakfast and coffee, you perverts!). But other than that, no other action I take is focused on anything but making her happy and content. For some of you, that may seem unworkable, but it is a whole different post or two to explain just why this works for us.
That is the foundation of our relationship. What we do in bed, and the rituals and interactions we have that celebrate her dominance and my submission are not part of that, except in that they are fulfilling for US, and make US happy.
We have been kinky almost from the start, and have been pegging since before it was called pegging. We were trying to remember when we started, but it has been well over a decade. Mrs. Fillmore has always been physical in bed, too, or at least has been so for a very long time. I like to say that she gets a little pinchy when she's had a few glasses of wine. Very dominant, aggressive, and physical, with slaps to my ass, or tweaks to my nipples when we are together.
So it was not surprising that these tendencies coalesced into the shape of a riding crop once I knelt at her feet and submitted to her formally. We used corporal punishment to work through all of our past, using pain and the application of pain to exorcise the emotional pain of past transgressions and betrayals. She uses a belt on me, a supple black leather number, when something comes up that we haven't dealt with, or one of my behaviors we're working on needs reinforcement. But for fun in the bedroom, she preferred her riding whip. If I wanted to feel its sting I would remind her it is correctly described as a crop. But she broke that. I can't remember if it was over my ass, back, legs, belly, or nipples, but it snapped in two with one blow, and we were both upset.
The belt is an inappropriate substitute, both because it is unwieldy at close quarters and the emotional, almost reverent nature of its primary use. She has another riding crop she uses for domestic discipline (small offenses) that is short and stiff, and again, the emotional intermingling of correction and playfulness do not mix.
So I made her this flogger. It is a tiny thing. The tails (8 of them) are only 18 inches long, and the handle is a third of that, at best. Too small for my hand, for sure. Not for hers, I can testify!
I gave this to her last night. While she was working on a project on the back porch and I had dinner going, I sat down with some paracord, PVC pipe, saw, scissors, butane lighter, and Krazy Glue and followed along with this excellent video to try and make her something to replace the "fun" crop.
What is significant here is that my abilities to make handicrafts, work with tools, or even draw a straight line on a piece of paper are pathetic. I wonder if you have seen the "Nailed It!" memes comparing some Etsy or Pinterest project (beautifully crafted) and then someone's pathetic attempt at the same thing juxtaposed right next to it? I was always the pathetic attempt.
Not on this, my friends. Take a look at that picture. I modified this guy's instructions perfectly to suit her size, I worked quickly, and yet with great care. I added steps as if by instinct, making my final product even more well-suited to our purposes than the "before" product the guy in the video made. When I gave it to Mrs. Fillmore, after she tried it out for a little while, she complimented my handiwork, and told me she noticed how this was so well made, and the pre-FLR Millard never had any luck with these things.
Well, it's not luck. It's an incredible focus born of fulfilling my life's purpose in bringing her joy. I am better at everything now, not just the interpersonal relationships. In nearly every aspect of my life. And I am NOT generally more submissive. I was an excellent salesman before, but now I am more assertive and confident with my customers, when that is appropriate. It's uncanny. This flogger, this little cat of nine (well, eight) tails, is an avatar for that new-found competence. Making something this well would not have been possible for me without this transition, and I celebrate that, just as Mrs Fillmore celebrated having a new toy, one made by her beloved, quite extensively last night.
