My life was full. Too full, it seemed, to move forward. It seems disingenuous to imagine my life being enhanced in any meaningful way, since I seemed to have it all. I had two successful businesses and four women that would do anything I asked.
Asked seems to be the wrong word. In my position, I requested nothing. I gave orders, and they were carried out to my satisfaction, or there were consequences. I was challenged often, especially in my early days. Individually and collectively, my mother and sisters would intentionally test me.
Being dominant without being abusive is a fine line. I did what I did out of love. I had respect for my position. I found myself within specific self imposed guidelines. I never acted out of anger, and I made it my rule to never react to anything in any forum.
Reaction is a good thing in limited cases. You need the ability to react in situations like war, sports or emergency. In real life, people far too often react rather than respond. I always took the time to respond. I thought about the words or event before I ever answered it.
Once my family determined that this was my strength, the challenges to my position became fewer and less intense. There was a lot of sex, bondage, discipline and pain, but there was also a shift. I was called on for advice and council. The women usually took my decisions as final, but I also had some emotional outbursts and fighting.
Getting any measure of outside help proved to be more of a problem than an asset. I was as anonymous as I could make myself when I went about getting answers I was seeking. Some were about general rules and codes of conduct and some were about specific issues.
I found that people can be more judgmental than friendly. Certain people seemed to have a specific, preconceived idea of exactly what a master was. Any deviation from the guidelines they had set in their minds was unacceptable to them.
I found myself alone in my world. I kept my wits about me, and always tried to do what I thought was the right thing, rather than the instinctive or self indulgent thing. There were ups and downs, but I felt that we had grown closer and I felt more loved than I ever had.
Heidi wanted a tattoo. I'm sure it was more team spirit than personal desire, but once she decided on it, she came to me. It was never a condition of our relationship that she clear such things with me. I doubt if she even had this type of request for approval with dad.
My sister knew that I had good judgement, and sought my approval about many issues, large and small. In this case, she played soccer in college, and her team had gone undefeated during the regular season. A few of the star players decided to have their numbers permanently inked on their bodies.
One part of her thought the idea was cool, and she got caught up in peer pressure. A few were getting the numbers just over their breast, one high up on her arm, two were incorporating them into tramp stamps on the lower back, and one low on her belly, just at her bikini line, off to one side. I noted that there was no uniformity to their design. It made me think this was not a good idea.
I'm sure that in her mind I didn't consider her request for a sufficient length of time before rejecting it. She went through her emotional bag of tricks. She was angry, sad, pouted like a little girl, cried, yelled and told me that she was old enough to do whatever she wanted.
I agreed with her last statement, and I told her so. She smiled and looked at me in triumph, her eyes burning with victory. She tossed her long hair and sat up in her chair. We sat across from each other at the heavy dining room table, staring at each other. Mom hovered in the background, taking in everything.
"However, if you want to continue to be a part of the family as it is now, you'll take my advice."
I swept my arm across the table, indicating the total of the house and all that our lives had become.
"If you choose to ignore me, I will take it as a personal insult."
Her sweet victory turned sour in her mouth. Her eyes narrowed in defiance. She listened intently, searching for a flaw in my reasoning.
"I have reasons that I would be happy to share. Right now, permanently marking your body seems like the thing to do. Your friends are doing it, it looks cool and sexy, and it might seem like the perfect way to express yourself."
I stared her down, feeding every argument and reason back to her.
"Once you have one, chances are you'll want another one. Some women like the pain. There are a lot of reasons that people want a tattoo. It draws attention to you. You can put it in a hidden place, like your own secret that you can reveal when you choose to."
Heidi looked up at me with her best little girl eyes. A slight smile played across her face and she was blushing a little. I had hit on a reason or reasons she liked the idea of getting inked. I could have narrowed it down until I had the primary desire in her mind and hammer away at it, but my reason took me in a different direction.
"I have heard that possession is 9/10's of the law. You've probably heard that too. I don't know if that is true. I do know that perception is 9/10's of the law. I am liberal in many ways, but when I see a girl with tattoos, my mind describes her to me in a way that is not necessarily positive."
Now Heidi's eyes darkened. It looked like someone pulled a cloud over her face. She also tensed and went defensive.
"She might be a bright beautiful girl, talented and with extremely high morals. Her outward appearance reflects that she is trying to draw attention to herself, and not in a positive way. To me, she appears easy and cheap, a slut waiting to be used and abused."
Heidi's mouth opened. I held up my hand.
"I didn't say that it was right or fair. If I perceive her that way, others also see her that way. We face enough challenges in life. We do not intentionally narrow our choices and options by doing destructive things to ourselves."
Heidi's mouth closed as she finally fought her instinct to argue her point.
