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I nodded. No way did I want him to observe me. “Yes, Sir. I will not forget again.”
“You didn’t forget. You chose not to; that is different.”
Chose not to, forgot, or ignored—those discrete nuances blurred into one for Jason. I ate my humble pie and avoided eye contact as I wiped the soap off his chest. “Yes, Master. I will swill myself out daily during my period. I only wish to please you.” I offered a twitchy smile. I wanted him to move on from lecturing me.
I meant it, too. Unlike Wednesday, when my submissiveness took a grumpy holiday, on Sunday she was back in residence, making both of us happy.
***
Jason lost his golf game.
His Sunday golfing sessions had become infrequent and irregular, causing his putting technique and golf swing to suffer from lack of practice. I offered Jason commiserations before he headed up to have his shower. Before Joshua’s arrival, if he won his game, he took me into the lair and celebrated by using my body for an extended period of kinky play. If he lost, he’d ignore me, as if mutual misery made him feel better. That Sunday, while Jason showered, I lounged in the snug with Joshua.
The snug was an ideal room for Joshua. The smallest reception room in the house opened directly into the conservatory through double doors. The extra space would be useful in the warmer months. It was easy to contain Joshua in the room with his toys. Having mastered walking, he showed off his new skill by picking toys up and depositing them in my lap. I had accumulated a collection of random toys between my legs: cars, building blocks, and cuddly bears. He bought me another one, waddling over with a big grin.
“Da!” he said, dropping a Duplo block onto the pile.
“Thank you, Joshie. Good boy,” I answered, without taking my eyes off the pages of the novel I attempted to read.
His speech was developing, too. Changing from babbling sounds to the distinct sounds of words. I could not wait to hear him say Mummy for the first time.
Jason joined us, and the dynamics of the room changed. I vacated the armchair, and he took up residence in it, with me sitting between his legs on a cushion. Joshua had a new victim for his game and brought over a toy to put in Jason’s lap.
“Da!” he said, looking wide eyed at his father.
“Thank you, Joshua.”
Jason used his full name while I often shortened it to Josh or Joshie, especially if he was sad. Jason gave his son a beaming smile then Joshua tottered off in search of something else.
Jason stroked my hair. “He likes approval.”
I tilted my head back, enjoying the tingling sensation in my scalp. “That’ll be me in him. Wanting to know what he is doing is being appreciated.”
“I wonder if he will have an inclination to be a Dom or sub,” pondered Jason.
“Oh, a Dom, hopefully,” I divulged with a snort.
The tingling became a sting as he tugged on my locks. “Why? What’s wrong with being a submissive?”
I hadn’t intended it to sound as if I thought it right or wrong, but the words had slipped out of my mouth without much forethought.
I shrugged. “Nothing. You’ve achieved so much being a Dominant.” I could not hide a pang of envy.
Jason produced an exasperated kind of sigh. “And you haven’t? I make money, lots of money, but have you achieved less in your life?” He tapped my head with his finger. “Submissives often work in all kinds of professions: worthy careers. I know many teachers or doctors who make difficult decisions in the day and then hand over control after work to another. They serve without the stress of managing other people’s lives. I don’t think a doctor is worth less than I am. They save lives. I don’t.”
Had I been stereotyping my son? “Perhaps it’s because he’s a boy, then.”
“Now you’re implying only boys make good Dominants or only women should be submissive? You know that isn’t the case.”
Was I prejudiced against my own status as a submissive, my gender? My ambitions were not in the same league as Jason’s, but I worked hard for them and wanted the same sense of achievement as him. Whether we were Dom or sub, those careers or ideals were reached through hard work and perseverance.
“I know,” I murmured. It hadn’t been my intention to discriminate.
Jason took another toy from Joshua’s hand. “Most people don’t demonstrate strong dominant or submissive traits. The desire to control is after all one facet of a personality. He could be balanced and have no strong inclination to be either. He is himself.”
Jason was right. It didn’t matter. I would love my son whatever he became in life—gay, bisexual, Dominant, submissive, punk rocker, or ballet dancer. Anything was possible.
Joshua lost interest in the fetching game and concentrated his efforts on chewing as many different toys as possible, picking them up, gobbing his drooling mouth all over them then tossing them away.
