Madame is starting to think of discipline like the banks of a river.
The banks do not stop the water from moving. They give it somewhere to move.
Without them, the water spills outward and loses its direction. Held between strong banks, the river can deepen, gather force and flow freely.
This is how I am beginning to understand discipline within D/s.
Rules and rituals form the banks. Consent and respect make them strong. Dominant and submissive know where they stand, and within that knowing there is room to let go, explore, play and move freely together.
The banks do not destroy freedom.
They give freedom somewhere to flow.
Respect fuels freedom.
This journey of life sure is a curious thing.
I have been through phases of great discipline and phases of reckless abandon. At times I have thrown all structure away believing this would make me free.
No rules! No structure! No banks! Look at me go!
Alas, the foolish trickery of the mind.
Because I am beginning to understand that freedom is not always found by removing the banks.
Even the word discipline interests me.
It comes from the Latin disciplina: instruction, teaching, training. It is related to discipulus, a pupil or learner, and discere — to learn.
Well, this Madame is in a constant state of learning.
So much so that the irritating biological inconveniences of eating, sleeping and occasionally stopping to relieve herself of her divine Goddess nectar can feel like outrageous interruptions.
This, incidentally, is where Subjects become useful.
A toilet slave here. A domestic slave there. A Madame simply cannot do EVERYTHING.
Just this evening Madame had Monkey Puppet on her left hand, deeply engaged in conversation. Monkey has become somewhat of an emotional-support monkey to Madame. Madame highly recommends.
Madame is left-handed. and also wanted to keep experimenting with paint.
For a moment she wished she might simply sprout another set of arms like the four-armed forms of Vishnu in Vaikuntha.
No additional arms appeared.
So off Monkey popped, and Madame continued to play with paint.
Madame ponders…
Is this the lesson?
I want to do everything. Follow every thought. Chase every curiosity. Make every thing. Read every book. Paint every idea. Wander down every strange corridor that opens in my mind.
There is enormous life in me.
But a river cannot travel in every direction at once.
For much of my life I have understood limits as something imposed upon me — something to push against or escape.
But what if some limits are chosen because I value what they protect?
And what if discipline is not confinement at all, but the practice of honouring what I have chosen?
That changes something in the way I understand Dominance.
It isn't simply about giving instructions or correcting another person. It lives in keeping one's word. Showing up. Listening. Restraint. Responsibility. Knowing where the edge is and respecting it.
And then there is something else.
The banks belong to both of us.
Madame may help shape them, but she does not stand above them.
She enters the river too.
That does not make her submissive. She may lead, steer, set direction and hold authority, but she too is held by what has been agreed.
Consent. Limits. Ethics. Sobriety. Respect. Responsibility.
These are not simply requirements for the Subject.
They hold Madame too.
And strangely, I find freedom in that.
I do not have to hold an infinite landscape in my head. I do not have to reinvent everything in every moment. I can surrender the burden of limitlessness without surrendering my Dominance.
The banks are there.
And inside them, we can play.
Maybe discipline and freedom were never enemies.
Maybe structure and creativity aren't either.
A canvas has edges.
A ritual has a beginning and an ending.
A body needs sleep.
A river needs banks.
And apparently, Madame needs to occasionally put down her emotional-support monkey and go to bed.
The river will still be there tomorrow.